


Control

by parsleylion



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: Angst, M/M, Self-Harm, Super Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 55,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsleylion/pseuds/parsleylion
Summary: Mike's life is slowly spiraling into darkness... can the others help him before it's too late?





	1. Chapter 1

The sky is grey. My mind is grey. In fact, my whole life is gray. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, I don’t talk, I don’t listen anymore. What’s the point? What’s the point in eating, sleeping, talking, listening?

  
  


What’s the point in anything when you wish you were dead?

  
  


I don’t know.

  
  


When I’m not busy busting my ass off at college, serving pricks in a burger bar, or trying to get somewhere with the band I’m in, this is all I think about. I lie awake at night, thinking it over and over again. I sit in my room at mealtimes, thinking it over and over again. I drift off into my own little world, when others are talking to me, thinking it over and over again.

  
  


I don’t want to die, do I?

  
  


But I said I wished I was dead.

  
  


Oh, I do.

  
  


I also wish I was happy. There aren’t too many times in my life when I’ve been happy. But the times I have been happy were good. I want to feel good again. I want to laugh with my mates, I want to enjoy my life, I want to be happy goddamit. Is that too much to ask for?

  
  


I also want this pain I feel to stop.

  
  


I can make it go away, that’s easy. But it always comes back again.

  
  


The only way to make it stop is to kill myself.

  
  


And so the cycle of thought continues. In my mind, 24/7. They control my thoughts. They control my mind. They control me. I need help, I know that. I’m fading away. Lost within this viscous circle. I can’t control my thoughts. I can’t control my mind.

  
  


I can’t control myself.

  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  


“So which one then?”

  
  


“That one.”

  
  


“Okay. Why?”

  
  


“I have to have a reason?”

  
  


“I need opinions.”

  
  


“I don’t know, I guess I just prefer it.”

  
  


“Oh god Mr. Delson, you are way too helpful. Mike, you know about this shit, what do you think?”

  
  


I turn my head to Rob who is waving two designs in front of my face, for some school assignment he’s doing.

  
  


“Erm, that one,” I say, pointing to the one in his right hand.

  
  


“Oh, you think? Why?”

  
  


Because it’s the one nearest to me.

  
  


I shrug and get up off of the couch. I need a drink.

  
  


“Thanks,” Rob mumbles as I head to the fridge.

  
  


Don’t mention it.

  
  


I grab two ice cold bottles of bud and plonk myself down at the table. I snap off the top and pour half the contents of the beer down my throat.

  
  


“I better get off to school, I’m late again, ” Rob calls, “I’ll see you two later at band practice.”

  
  


“See ya,” Brad calls.

  
  


Yeah it’s only eight in the morning and I’m drinking beer. Who cares? I’m fucked up, remember?

  
  


Brad shakes his head at me as he sits down at the table. He snatches the bottle from my hand and places it the other side of him, along with the second bottle.

  
  


“Hey, I was drinking that,” I hiss, reaching over to retrieve my beers.

  
  


I’m stopped as Brad pushes me back firmly into my seat.

  
  


“I’m not letting my best friend become an alcoholic.”

  
  


Oh great. Looks like he’s about to give me one of his Brad Delson specialty lectures.

  
  


“Now are you coming into college today? Or do I have to drag you there myself?”

  
  


“Ok,” I sigh, “I’m coming.”

  
  


There’s absolutely no point whatsoever in arguing with Brad. He always wins. And besides, I can’t be doing with one of his lectures, I can’t hack them on a good day, let alone today.

  
  


“Go get dressed and I’ll wait for you here,” he smiles, knowing he’s won.

  
  


I sigh and haul myself into my bedroom. If that's what you can call it. Well, it has a bed and it’s in a room. Thing is, you can’t see the bed, for the mess. The floor is covered with empty beer bottles, half done essays, paintings, and clothes. The other half of the room is bare, our other roommate moved out a few weeks back. So, we really need another one. I think we owe at least two months worth of rent. It sucks being skint.

  
  


I spot my jeans hanging from the window, don’t ask why they’re there.... I pull them on and pull a clean hoody out of the drawer then after some more scrambling around I find my trainers and my bag. I pull them on and go back to Brad.

  
  


He grins at me as I slam the bedroom door behind me.

  
  


“What?” I hiss.

  
  


“Nothing Mike, I was just smiling.”

  
  


Just me being paranoid. Again.

  
  


I follow Brad out of our flat. I’ll rephrase that. Out of our dire excuse for a flat. We got chucked out of college living quarters last year so Brad, our old roommate Chris and I ended up here, Rob soon joined us and we never did get round to doing it up......

  
  


We walk down the street in silence.

  
  


It feels really chilly out here for april. I hope I’m not coming down with something again. I glance up to the sky, noticing how gray it is. A few birds glide around aimlessly, ducking in and out the clouds every so often. They are so lucky, flying about all day, freedom as far as the eye can see. What I wouldn’t do for a bit of there freedom, to be able to get lost up there in the clouds, no worries, no pain, no........

  
  


“MIKE.”

  
  


I suddenly feel Brad’s arms around me, pulling me onto the pavement.

  
  


“Dude, are you okay? You walked out right in front of that car.”

  
  


“I, I didn’t,” I stop.

  
  


I just walked out in front of a car? I could’ve just died. The amount of times I’ve planned running out into the rush hour traffic on the busiest road and I just did it. Did I just try to kill myself? Or was I just day dreaming? Oh god, I don’t know.

  
  


“I don’t know,” I wail.

  
  


I feel Brad pulling me back. Then I see another man beside him. I don’t recognize him. Do I know him? I hope not.

  
  


“I’m so sorry, is he okay?”

  
  


“Yes sir,” I hear Brad tell him, “I think he’s.”

  
  


His voice stops.

  
  


“Mike, are you there? Mike are you okay?”

  
  


I feel myself falling backwards, as if in slow motion, “Brad?”

  
  


I hear voices. They merge together. I see nothing, no colors, no shapes. Nothing. Where am I? What have I done?

  
  


“Brad? Brad? I don’t wanna die Brad.”

  
  


I don’t want to die.

  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  


I slowly open my eyes.

  
  


“Hey.”

  
  


A familiar voice to the left of me. I turn my head slowly. Brad.

  
  


“Are you okay? You gave me a scare.”

  
  


“Yeah, I, what happened?”

  
  


“You had one of your panic attacks.”

  
  


Great. Again.

  
  


“I’ll just go tell the nurse you’re awake,” he smiles, getting up.

  
  


“Nurse?”

  
  


“Yeah, the guy that nearly knocked you down was a doctor, he insisted on bringing you to hospital.”

  
  


“Hospital?”

  
  


I sit up.

  
  


“Brad, you know I don’t like hospitals. Brad, please, let me go home now. They’ll lock me up, they’ll take me away, please, just take me hom....”

  
  


I stop as Brad’s hand connects with my cheek as he slaps me.

  
  


“Mike. Listen. No one is going to lock you up. No one is going to take you away. You are perfectly safe, now calm down.”

  
  


I nod as he pokes his head out of the curtain.

  
  


A few minutes later he reappears with a nurse.

  
  


“Now, Mr. Shinoda,” she smiles, taking the chart from the end of the bed, “How are you feeling?”

  
  


“Fine. When can I go back?”

  
  


Brad flashes me a dirty glare.

  
  


“We’d like to keep you in for say three or four more hours.”

  
  


“But....”

  
  


“Mr. Shinoda, you’ve been out cold for the past three hours, it’s hardly wise to go and wear yourself out again. I’d advise you stay here at least a couple of hours, just rest a little.”

  
  


“No,” I shake my head, pulling back the covers, “I want to go now,” I hiss, tugging at the gown I’ve been put in.

  
  


“Mr. Shinoda, calm down, It is not a wise idea for you to go.”

  
  


“You cannot and will not keep me here, so save it for someone who cares,” I snap.

  
  


She sighs, “Very well sir, I’ll go get your clothes.”

  
  


I sit on the edge of the bed, facing away from Brad, until the nurse returns with my bag of clothes.

  
  


I stand up slowly, steadying myself on the side of the bed.

  
  


“Brad, you can wait outside if you like.”

  
  


He doesn’t budge, and stays rooted to the floor, staring at me icily. I know exactly why.

  
  


“Fine,” I sigh, ripping the gown off, “Look, no cuts, just old scars,” I sigh, pointing to my chest before pulling my hoody on, “None on my legs,” I continue as I put on my jeans and trainers, “And,” I roll my sleeves up, “As you probably already saw, no new scars on my arms.”

  
  


“Mike,” he sighs, “How can you expect me not to worry?”

  
  


“Come on,” I sigh ignoring him, “What’s the time? I need to get some stuff in at college, you coming?”

  
  


“Mike, I’ll take it for you, you need to rest.”

  
  


“Are you coming, or what? This morning you were practically forcing me to go,” I irk, picking up my bag.

  
  


“What’s happened to you, Mike?” I hear him mutter as we leave the cubicle.

  
  


If I only I knew myself, Brad.

  
  


If only I knew.

  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  


“So my cousin says he’s like, a totally amazing singer and we’d be fools not to at least try him out.”

  
  


“What have we got to lose? Fine by us, Mike is that okay?”

  
  


Great, ten minutes into band practice and I’ve already spaced.

  
  


“Er what?”

  
  


Dave rolls his eyes at me, “Okay Mikey are we listening? My. Cousin. Knows. A. Guy. Who. Is.”

  
  


“Quit it,” I sigh.

  
  


“He knows this guy who’s a good singer and he said he’d like to try out with us so he should be here any minute now, okay?”

  
  


“Sure,” I nod.

  
  


Don’t get me wrong, I really like Dave, but why does he have to be so sarcastic with me the whole time?

  
  


I shrug it off and turn back to the lyrics I was typing up. I hope this guy is what we’re looking for. We really, really need a singer. I can sing to an extent, but that’s as far as it goes. I’m the rapper. And in nearly everyone of the songs I’ve written I rap and then the chorus or another verse is sung.

  
  


I turn round as I hear a knocking at the door. This has to be him. No one else knows, or would want to know where this studio is. It’s actually underground, well, two stories under the basement of this recording studios. It’s the pits. We spend half of our time fixing or trying to get the equipment to work in the first place. I suppose that’s why it’s free. I mean who in there right mind would want to rent out this place?

  
  


Dave pulls the door open to reveal a scrawny guy, about our age. He has spiky brown hair and deep brown eyes. He is dressed pretty smartly, in khakis and a black hoody.

  
  


“You must be Chester?” Dave asks, extending his hand to him.

  
  


“Sure am,” He smiles, shaking his hand.

  
  


“Come on in,” Dave smiles, stepping aside to let him through the door, “Sit down.”

  
  


He plonks himself down on the couch next to me.

  
  


“Well, I’ll introduce you,” Dave carries on, “This is Brad, our guitarist, Rob, our drummer, the miserable one next to you is Mike, our emcee and songwriter and I’m Dave, resident bass player.”

  
  


“Well, Hi,” Chester smiles, glancing at each one of us in turn.

  
  


I smile back, ignoring Dave’s comments.

  
  


“Well, we’ll just set up our stuff through here and Mike will run you through the songs,” Brad tells us as the three pile through into the studio.

  
  


“What songs would they be?”

  
  


Brad rolls his eyes at me. I was obviously day dreaming when they discussed this, “Part of me and Carousel.”

  
  


I nod and scoop up my ring binder off of the floor, flicking through the pages before I find the words.

  
  


“Here you go,” I smile, passing the paper to him, “The parts in black are what we’d like you to sing and the other parts are the bits I rap. We’ll play through them first a few times, so you can get the basic tune.”

  
  


I watch him as he carefully reads through the lyrics.

  
  


“Wow,” he finally looks up, “You wrote these?”

  
  


“Yeah,” I nod.

  
  


“Therapeutic, huh?”

  
  


“Just a little,” I smile.

  
  


“Right, we’re ready,” Brad calls.

  
  


“Come on through, then,” I smile, “Good luck.”

  
  


“Thanks.”

  
  


Rob, Brad and Dave play through the songs a few times before Chester tells us he has the tunes.

  
  


“Okay then, we’ll start with Part of me.”

  
  


“I feel it everyday, I feel I made my way, I feel it swell up inside, swell up inside, swallowing me......”

  
  


I nearly drop my microphone as Chester starts to sing. It’s as if he knows the song off by heart, like he’s been listening to it for the past three years. He hits every note perfectly. I think we’ve found our singer.

  
  


My decision is made as we play Carousel. This boy is too good. We have to have him.

  
  


I turn to the others as Rob hits the finishing symbol. They smile back at me, eyes wide, nodding their heads.

  
  


“You wanna join the band? Because we’ll have you!” I grin.

  
  


“For real?”

  
  


I nod.

  
  


“Oh, great,” he smiles, “Good, thank you,” he grins as the others congratulate him.

  
  


For the first time in ages I feel a genuine smile creeping over my face and I feel happy. Maybe, just maybe, this is going to work. Don’t ask why, but I have this good feeling about Chester .

  
  


“Well, I hate to break up the party,” Dave sighs as he packs his guitar away, “But Brad and I have to go work on this assignment that’s due in tomorrow.”

  
  


“Oh god,” Brad rolls his eyes, “How could I have forgotten?”

  
  


“Well, it’s good to meet you Chester, we have a band practice scheduled for tomorrow, so I guess we’ll see you then.”

  
  


“See you then,” He smiles.

  
  


“Oh and Mike will fill you in on everything else,” Brad nods as they exit the room.

  
  


“I have to go catch up on my homework,” Rob scowls, “Well, congrats, Chester , I’m sure we’re going to make a fine team. See you tonight Mike.”

  
  


“Okay, later.”

  
  


I turn to Chester . I don’t know his last name, in fact I know fuck all about him, looks like I’ve been left to tell him all. Which is okay, seems as I did start this band up.

  
  


“Well, I normally hang about here for a few hours, so if you want me to fill you in on me and the others and just hang, you’re welcome.”

  
  


“Thanks,” he nods.

  
  


“Well, my,” I stop as the door opens.

  
  


Crystal. Dressed, as ever, to kill. The tightest black trousers cling to her legs matched with an even tighter black shirt. Her brown hair lies on her shoulders her blue eyes, as always, sparkle back at me.

  
  


“Hey babe,” She grins.

  
  


I try my best not to smile, but it’s no use.

  
  


“Hey,” I grin.

  
  


“You, er, said you needed something last night?”

  
  


Chester gets up, “I need some smokes, is there a store round here or something?”

  
  


I smile a silent thank you at him, “Just across the road.”

  
  


“Can I get you anything?”

  
  


“Oh, no thanks,” I shake my head.

  
  


He winks at me as he turns out of the door. I push it shut and wait for his footsteps to disappear.

  
  


I turn back to Crystal, who is making herself comfortable on the couch.

  
  


“So then Mike, what is it? The usual?”

  
  


I nod.

  
  


“Come here then,” She smiles, patting the couch next to her.

  
  


I step over to her and sit down.

  
  


She leans next to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, “If you’re extra good Mike, I might just give you some extra, how's that sound?”

  
  


I kiss her gently on her lips, “Oh, I’ll be good,” I whisper, “Especially for you.”

  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  


I lean back on the couch as Crystal pushes my prize into my hands, “You take care, Mike,” She smiles, pulling on her shirt, “I’ll see you around.”

  
  


I nod as she leaves the room.

  
  


“Shit,” I curse out load as reality hits me like a sledgehammer in my face. I’d promised I wouldn’t go messing with Crystal anymore. Thing is, I think I’m in too deep to stop. God, I’m in more of a mess than I realized. Am I an addict?

  
  


The sound of the door creaking open shoves that question right to the back of my mind. It’s Chester .

  
  


“Oh, sorry, you, er finished?” He asks, hovering in the doorway.

  
  


I look down, realizing I have no top on. How do I get out of this one?

  
  


“Yeah, sorry,” I laugh, pulling my hoody on, “Come in.”

  
  


He lets the door close behind him and sits down.

  
  


“So, you never introduced yourself properly,” I smile, before he gets chance to ask about me and crystal.

  
  


“Chester Bennington,” he smiles, extending his hand.

  
  


“Mike Shinoda,” I grin, shaking it.

  
  


“So, er what do you do?”

  
  


“I’m in my second year at college, I’m doing art along with that compulsory shit they force us do there.”

  
  


“Tell me about it.”

  
  


“You go there too?

  
  


“Yep, third and final year. I’m studying art too.”

  
  


“Really?” This is good. We have stuff in common, “Rob’s in his final year at high school. Brad, Dave and myself are all in the second year. We’ve known each other since kindergarten so we’re pretty close. We started the band about three years ago. Oh, we also have a DJ, Joe, when he can be bothered to show his face. He’s in my class.”

  
  


He lights up, “You want one?”

  
  


“Oh, thanks,” I nod, taking one and lighting it up, “So, you living in the dorms?” I ask, taking a drag of what must be my first cigarette in months. Like I’ve said, it sucks being skint.

  
  


“Yeah, I’m looking for somewhere else though. Apart from the fact I’ll be leaving soon, my roommate has a death wish against me.”

  
  


“Well, if things get too bad, there’s a spare bed at ours.”

  
  


“You’ve got your own place? I envy you.”

  
  


“It’s a dump. Brad, Rob and I live in it. We can’t pay the fucking rent, to be honest, I don’t see why we should. It’s the fucking pits.”

  
  


“Go back to living quarters.”

  
  


“We, er, kinda got kicked out...”

  
  


“For real? What did ya do?”

  
  


“Well, Brad and I held this party at the end of first year in these empty dorms. It got way out of hand; there was this massive fight then some dumbass started a fire.”

  
  


“You were involved in all that? Dude, that was all over the campus!”

  
  


“Yeah, we got chucked out for starting the party. I’m surprised they didn’t kick us out all together, they were so pissed! So, we got the cheapest apartment going.”

  
  


“And Rob lives there too?”

  
  


“Yeah, his parents kinda chucked him out.”

  
  


“Oh,” He pauses, “What happened?”

  
  


“Well, he was grounded, had his car taken off him because they found some weed in his room. Then I wasn’t supposed to go round to see him because they heard about me and Brad getting thrown out of the dorms. Well, Rob called me one night, they’d gone out, so I went round. We got pretty high and, er, well,” I blush, “They got back earlier than we’d expected and walked in on us completely stoned and, er, making out,” I slowly look up at Chester to see his expression. He grins back at me.

  
  


“So, er, you two together?”

  
  


“Hell no!! We were just pretty high,” I laugh.

  
  


“I’m glad I’m in this band now, I think you need someone to keep you in order, Mike,” He chuckles, “So you er, still smoke?” he asks me hesitantly.

  
  


“Try stopping me,” I grin.

  
  


“Good, someone to get high with,” He laughs.

  
  


“Yeah, Rob will join in too, but Brad has mellowed out a bit. Him and Dave are getting stuck in there work. They’re doing business studies.”

  
  


I pause as I hear my phone ringing. I grab my bag and delve into it, pulling out my phone. I drop it back to the floor as I answer.

  
  


“Hey.”

  
  


”Hey Mike, it’s Rob. I’ve locked myself out, I don’t suppose you could come let me in?”

  
  


“Sure, I’ll be there in ten.”

  
  


“Thanks bro.”

  
  


“Yeah. See you in a bit,” I laugh.

  
  


“Bye.”

  
  


I pocket my phone, “Listen Rob’s locked himself out, I have to go let him in. You can come round, if you like, it’s just a few blocks away.”

  
  


“Sure, if that’s okay.”

  
  


I bend down to pick my bag up. Shit. I stop as I realize the two bags of weed have fallen out....

  
  


“You planning on getting out of it?” Chester asks, pulling his bag on.

  
  


“I was owed a bag, did a mate a favor.”

  
  


“Must have been some huge favor,” he laughs.

  
  


“Something like that,” I smile shoving them back into my pocket.

  
  


I’m not sure if it’s wise to tell someone you’ve only known for two hours that you fuck a twenty six year old woman to supply your habit.......


	2. Chapter 2

I slowly open my eyes and try to focus on my surroundings.

  
  


Okay.

  
  


Where the fuck am I? And what the fuck happened last night?

  
  


I rub my eyes and sit up a little. Reaching into my pocket I pull out my glasses and shove them on.

  
  


My eyes meet with the living room ceiling, then as I glance around I see piles of bottles and overflowing ashtrays litter the floor.

  
  


“Oh God,” a voice groans.

  
  


I slowly move my head sideways.

  
  


Chester.

  
  


Oh yeah, we kind of celebrated him joining the band last night, didn’t we?

  
  


“Chester?” I croak.

  
  


“Uh huh?”

  
  


“Dude, how much did we drink last night?”

  
  


“God, I don’t think I want to know.”

  
  


I sit up a little more and rub my head, “Ow,” I croak, “This kills.”

  
  


“What? Your head or your stomach? I think I’m gonna chuck any minute, dude,

where’s the bathroom?” Chester asks urgently, pulling himself up.

  
  


“Through my room,” I tell him pointing to the door behind me.

  
  


He rushes into it and minutes later I can hear him being violently sick. I pull a cushion off the floor and cover my head with it so I can’t hear.

  
  


“Sorry ‘bout that,” Chester drawls as he returns from the bathroom.

  
  


“S’ok,” I sigh, removing the cushion and propping myself up on it.

  
  


“That’s like the most I’ve ever drunk in my life,” he pauses as he flops down next to me, “Did we really drink all of it?” he asks, nodding his head towards the mound of bottles before us.

  
  


“Shit,” I sigh, “Oh God, and the weed, how many joints did we get through, oh God,” I groan, “Today is gonna be awful.”

  
  


My prediction is confirmed as Brad bounds out of his room and pulls open the curtains unaware of the sight he’s about to stumble upon.

  
  


“Fuckin hell.”

  
  


He is so going to lecture me today, I can sense it.

  
  


He looks around the mess then across to Chester and I, then back down again.

  
  


“Sorry about the mess, I’ll help clean it up later,” Chester nods.

  
  


He shakes his head, “You two drank all this?”

  
  


“Uh huh,” I sigh, burying my head in my hands in an attempt to stop the sharp pain in my head.

  
  


“Mike?”

  
  


Oh no, here it comes, the lecture that he’s been keeping since yesterday morning.

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


He nods his head, motioning for me to come into the kitchen area, although I don’t know why because he’s going to start shouting so loud that Chester will hear him anyway.

  
  


But I slowly get up, passing Chester the cushion, which he gladly takes and props his head up with it. I follow Brad across to the kitchen table.

  
  


“Mike, you shouldn’t have drunk all that, you know that dude, don’t you?” he hisses.

  
  


“Come on, lighten up, we were celebrating, you should have joined us, Chester is such a laugh, we’re gonna get on so well,” I grin.

  
  


“Mike! Are you listening to me?” he shouts.

  
  


“Dude, don’t shout, my head, it kills,” I whisper, rubbing it with the back of my hand.

  
  


“It serves you right. Look, I’m worried about you, drinking isn’t going to make your problems go away.”

  
  


“You tell me that every time I have a drink.”

  
  


“So when are you going to start listening to me?”

  
  


“Good morning Chester,” I hear Rob call, “Hey, no need for an alarm clock when I have these two shouting every morning to wake me up bright and early,” he chuckles.

  
  


Brad glares at him.

  
  


“Don’t worry Chester, they’re always like this. Coffee?”

  
  


“Mike? I asked you a question,” Brad sighs after Rob has finished interrupting.

  
  


“Brad leave it,” I sigh, heading back to the couch.

  
  


“Mike for God’s sake, you spent most of yesterday morning in hospital after having another serious panic attack and you don’t have any rest all day and then you come home and drink half the world’s supply of beer and smoke god knows how much pot, you’re gonna fucking kill yourself,” he yells.

  
  


“Maybe that’s what I want to do,” I shout back at him.

  
  


“You had another one?” I hear Rob call as I storm into my room and slam the door behind me.

  
  


I flop down onto my bed and pull my covers over my head, attempting to block out the argument that’s kicked off between Rob and Brad.

  
  


“Brad, why didn’t you tell me?”

  
  


“Dude, he didn’t want anyone to make a fuss.”

  
  


“He nearly got run over for christ’s sake.”

  
  


“Well know you now, okay?”

  
  


“He’s not getting any better is he?”

  
  


“I’m off to college, we’ll talk later. See ya Chester.”

  
  


“Oh, bye.”

  
  


I hear the front door slam and break down in tears, Rob’s question whirling around in my head. ~  _‘He’s not getting any better is he? He’s not getting any better is he? He’s not getting any better is he? He’s not getting any better is he? He’s not getting any better is he?’ ~_

  
  


“Shut up,” I hiss, throwing my pillow across the floor.

  
  


I hear the door slam again and the house falls silent.

  
  


I’m just drifting off to sleep when I hear a faint knock at my door.

  
  


“Mike? Can I come in?”

  
  


Chester. Fuck. I forgot he was here.

  
  


“Yeah,” I call, turning over, “It’s open,” I tell him as I quickly wipe my eyes.

  
  


The door slowly opens and a disheveled looking Chester steps in.

  
  


“You, er okay?” he asks, hesitantly as he hovers in the door way.

  
  


“Yeah, er, sorry about all that,” I sigh.

  
  


“S’ok,” he shakes his head, “Me and my roommate are always arguing like that,” he

smiles.

  
  


“Oh, er, come in,” I nod, pulling my covers around me, “You can sit down,” I smile.

  
  


“Thanks,” he nods as he sits opposite me on my bed.

  
  


There is an awkward silence before Chester breaks it.

  
  


“You, er, wanna talk?”

  
  


“I, guess,” I sigh.

  
  


“I just thought it might help.”

  
  


“Yeah. Brad doesn’t like me drinking, his step-father was an alcoholic you see, I guess he just doesn’t like people that drink a lot.”

  
  


“Oh.”

  
  


“That’s it really,” I lie, well, I suppose it’s half the story, well a quarter, “He just gets a little too worried about me.”

  
  


“Why’s that?”

  
  


“I, well,” I stop.

  
  


“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I just, well if you need to talk.”

  
  


“Thanks,” I smile, “You, er, want a coffee or something? You can kip here if you like,” I smile, changing the subject.

  
  


“Oh thanks,” he nods as I get up, wrapping the blanket around me and head out into the kitchen.

  
  


He follows me through as I pour out two mugs of coffee and pass one over to him.

  
  


“Cheers,” he nods taking the mug I hold out to him.

  
  


We sit down at the table, propping our heads up with our hands.

  
  


“Shit,” I sigh, “I have to go into college today. I’m meant to be handing in an assignment. I already missed the deadline twice,” I groan, dropping my head to the table, “I haven’t even started the fucking thing,” I scowl.

  
  


“I can give you a hand if you like?” Chester offers from behind the cushion his head is resting in.

  
  


“Thanks dude,” I smile, “It’s okay though, I’ll try and get it done later and just hope to God they’ll accept it tomorrow,” I sigh.

  
  


“Ugh,” Chester groans, “I think I need to lie down,” he sighs.

  
  


“Me too,” I agree getting up, “Shit,” I groan as my head begins to pound, “You can use the spare bed,” I tell him as I stumble back into my room.

  
  


I drop down onto my bed and pull my covers over me.

  
  


“Thanks,” Chester mumbles as he collapses onto the other bed.

  
  


“S’ok,” I yawn, rolling onto my stomach.

  
  


I bury my head into my lovely soft pillow and close my eyes.

  
  


Sleep is good.

  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  


“Mike? Mike? For fucks sake, MIKE!!”

  
  


“Ugh?”

  
  


I roll over and jump as a pair of fierce brown eyes glare back at me.

  
  


Brad.

  
  


“What time is it?” I ask sitting up a little.

  
  


“Three thirty,” he scowls, “Get up dude, we’ve got to get to band practice in half an hour,” he sighs, yanking the covers off me.

  
  


“Ugh stop it,” I sigh, “Where’s Chester?” I ask as my eyes meet with the empty bed.

  
  


He passes me a note.

 

I unfold it and scan the blurred writing.

  
  


Thanks for letting me stay here. I cleaned up as much as I could... !! See you later on, Chaz.

  
  


I smile and place the paper down as I crawl out of bed, stretching my arms out in front of me.

  
  


“If you get a move on I’ll give you a lift,” he sighs.

  
  


I stick my tongue out at him and bound into the bathroom. I think I really needed that eight hours sleep.

  
  


A good twenty minutes later I emerge from the bathroom and pull on a clean set of clothes, “Right Braddles,” I call as pick up my bag and head into the kitchen, “Ready?”

  
  


“Okay,” he smiles, pulling his bag onto his shoulder, “What are you in such a good mood for?” he asks, placing his arm around my shoulder.

  
  


“Nuttin,” I grin.

  
  


“Yeah right,” he nods at me.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Nuttin,” he laughs mimicking me, “Lets get going.”

  
  


I roll my eyes and follow him out to his car, slamming the door behind me.

  
  


“So, what’s Chester like?” he asks as we pull away from the side of the road and drive to the studio.

  
  


“He’s pretty cool,” I grin, “I think he’s going to fit in really well,” I nod.

  
  


“Good,” he smiles as we reach the corner.

  
  


I can feel his eyes on me as we wait to turn into the main road. I’m no mind reader, but I have a pretty good idea of what subject he’s going to bring up.

  
  


“Mike,” he starts as we turn the corner.

  
  


“Yeah?” I ask, turning to look out of the window; watching the rows of apartments fade as we leave the main part of the city.

  
  


“Are you still taking your medication?”

  
  


I carry on gazing out of the window, it was only a matter of time before he brought that up, wasn’t it?

  
  


“Mike?” he sighs.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“You heard me.”

  
  


“No.”

  
  


“Why not?”

  
  


I choose not to answer him, and suddenly start to find the bleak view from the window really interesting.

  
  


“Mike?” he hisses. He’s starting to get pissed now, I can tell it by the tone of his voice and the way he’s gripping the steering wheel.

  
  


“Can’t we talk about this some other time?” I scowl, winding the window down.

  
  


“No and shut that window,” he shouts back over the sound of traffic and wind blowing.

  
  


Sighing I wind the window back up again and rest my head on the back of the seat with a thud.

  
  


“Why won’t you talk to me anymore? It’s not going to go away, y’know.”

  
  


I continue to stare ahead at me, burning a hole in the back of the truck that sways about in front of us, as I wonder how many times we’ve had this conversation.

  
  


Don’t get me wrong, Brad’s a good friend, despite the fact that we spend most of our time arguing. I love him to bits and care deeply about him. But sometimes, he pushes me too far. He constantly wants me too tell him how I’m feeling and if I’m okay or not. He can’t seem to accept that sometimes I don’t want to talk and sometimes I don’t know how to describe how I’m feeling.

  
  


I wish I could deal with the fact that I was given up for adoption when I was just a few months old. I wish I could deal with the fact that the couple that adopted me didn’t love me and I wish I could deal with the fact that I was sexually abused by them.

  
  


But I can’t.

  
  


That’s why I’m like this, I guess.

  
  


As soon as I was about ten, I began doing all the things I shouldn’t just to escape the fact that I wasn’t wanted. Drinking, drugs, cutting, you name it; I’ve done it. Not coz I want to though, but it’s the only way that I can escape; the only way I get to release the pain I’ve felt all my life.

  
  


And Brad’s put up with me for pretty much all my life. When I used to cry at school because I was too scared to go home; he’d look after me. He put up with my bitchy moods and depressed states all the way through Junior High, then High school. He always stuck up for me when the others got pissed at me. He always covered for me when I would stay out all night getting absolutely wasted. But then the last straw came; when he found me almost dead in my bedroom last summer.

  
  


I drank a cocktail of drink and painkillers in the hope that I could escape from all my problems forever.

  
  


That, as I said, was the last straw. He forced me to get help. He forced me to see a Doctor. He forced me to feed myself daily with the prozac I was prescribed. And at the time, I hated him. I truly hated him.

  
  


But know I see why he did it it’d, coz he was, and still is a friend and a half.

  
  


He’d do anything to help me.

  
  


And believe me, I’d do anything to let him help me, I’d do anything to open up to him and tell him how I feel.

  
  


But I can’t, coz I constantly push the fact that I’m ill to the back of my mind. I put on a facade; it helps me forget who I really am and what really happened to me. It’s easy when you have no control of your emotions.

  
  


“Dude, I’m sorry about that,” Brad sighs as he shuts the engine off.

  
  


Looking up I see that we’re in the car park of the studio.

  
  


“No,” I pause as he undoes his seatbelt, “I’m sorry Brad. I don’t mean to be like that wit....”

  
  


I’m cut off as someone bangs on the door on Brad’s side. Brad pushes it open to see Joe, standing there like a maniac.

  
  


“Hey,” Joe grins as we get out.

  
  


“Hey Joe,” I smile, “You feeling okay?” I ask as Brad locks his car.

  
  


“Huh?” he answers, a puzzled look plastered across his face.

  
  


“What are you here for?”

  
  


“I am in the band, remember?” he scowls, pushing me playfully as we head across the car park to the main entrance.

  
  


“Yeah but you’re never here for practice,” I sigh, “In fact, when was the last time you bothered to show up?” I chuckle, ducking as he attempts to whack me across the head.

  
  


“I’m busy with schoolwork,” he pauses, “Which you would be too, if you actually bothered to turn up.”

  
  


“Good point,” Brad chips in with a smug smirk upon his face.

  
  


“Shut it,” I scowl, holding the door open behind me as we enter the dark building.

  
  


“Brad told me about Chester,” Joe explains as we head down the stairs, “So I thought I’d come along and meet him.”

  
  


“What, and you’re actually gonna stop and practice?”

  
  


“Well, no. I have to get back to college, I’m afraid.”

  
  


“Surprise, surprise,” I sigh, “You know there’s not much point of you being in the band Joseph, if you can’t even be bothered to practice with us,” I scowl, pushing the heavy steel door open that leads to the next set of stairs down into the basement.

  
  


“Oh shut it Mike,” Joe hisses, “Isn’t it about time you removed that stick that seems to be permanently lodged up your ass?”

  
  


“Fuck you, Joe,” I shout, turning round to him, “I was just saying. I mean, wouldn’t you think the same, if I didn’t turn up hardly any of the time whilst you put it in a shit load of work?”

  
  


“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Me not turning up every night for practice is just the same as you not getting up off your lazy ass and coming into college, right Brad?”

  
  


I look across to Brad who simply rolls his eyes and sighs, “Don’t bring me into this. I’ll be downstairs with the others. Join us when you’ve finished girls,” he sighs, pushing past me and storming down the stairs.

  
  


I stare back at Joe wishing that he hadn’t decided to show his ugly little head tonight. He would have saved a whole lot of trouble if he hadn’t had bothered to show up like usual.

  
  


“What?” he finally hisses after me glaring at him for a good few minutes.

  
  


“Nothing,” I spit.

  
  


“Well what are you fucking staring at me for?”

  
  


“I was just thinking,” I pause, “Thinking what a fucking tosser you’ve turned into.”

  
  


He smiles, “Me?” he laughs, “You’re calling me a fucking tosser? Oh God, Mike,” he grins, inching closer to me, “You’re one very disillusioned kid. Mike, let me explain. You’re the fucking tosser. Ask Brad, ask Dave, ask Rob, they’ll all agree with me. Ever since last summer, you’ve just gotten worse and worse. And you know what? We’re all fed up of you Mike. We’ve had enough. Even Brad’s starting lose his patience with you. You better watch out, coz pretty soon you’re going to lose all your friends, got it?”

  
  


I stare back at him, his words hitting me harder than a blow to the stomach.

  
  


“Lost for words, huh?” he spits, looking me up and down as though I’m something he found on the bottom of his shoe, “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” he hisses.

  
  


I can no longer contain my anger as his words spin round inside my mind, repeating themselves over and over again.

  
  


“You know what?” I hiss, grabbing him by the shoulder.

  
  


He stops and turns to face me, “What?”

  
  


“Fuck you,” I hiss, “Fuck you and the rest of them,” I shout, pushing him roughly.

  
  


He loses his balance and slips back, grabbing onto the banister to save himself from falling down the stairs.

  
  


“That is it, Mike,” he shouts, getting up, “That is fucking it,” he repeats, grabbing me by the collar of my shirt, “You’ve fucking blown any chance of friendship with me, understand?” he hisses, slamming me into the wall.

  
  


I stare back at him; hate painted all over his face.

  
  


“Do us all a favor and leave us alone, yeah? Why don’t you take another overdose, hey?” he spits, banging my head against the wall once again, “Only this time, make sure it works?”

  
  


And with that he’s gone. Racing down the stairs and slamming the door behind him.

  
  


I lean back against the wall, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. I wipe them away as they begin to spill down my cheeks.

  
  


Truth hurts, hey?

  
  


Not anymore.

  
  


I grab my bag and hurl it onto my shoulder before racing up the stairs and out into the cool spring air.

  
  


My head is throbbing, hands shaking as I lean back against the building, staring up at the grey sky.

  
  


You know what hurts the most? He was right. I am the fucking tosser and I should take that overdose.

  
  


I should take that overdose.

  
  


I push myself away from the wall and take one last look at the tall building.

  
  


“I guess this is goodbye guys,” I whisper before slowly turning away.

  
  


I guess this is goodbye.

  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  


It’s dark and it’s cold. I have no idea what time it is because I left my phone and watch at home. I have no idea where the hell I am either, because I’ve never walked through this part of town before.

  
  


I must have been walking for quite a while though. My feet are aching and I think I’m definitely coming down with a cold as I can’t seem to breath properly and my throat feels like someone’s poured acid down it.

  
  


Chance would be a fine thing.

  
  


I left the studio at about four o’clock and as it’s getting dark now, it must be at least seven o’clock.

  
  


All the time I’ve been walking I’ve been trying to think what I’m going to take to end all this shit. There should be plenty of beers left in the fridge if Chester and I didn’t drink them all last night. Failing that, there’s a bottle of vodka in one of the kitchen cupboards. That will go down nicely with a couple dozen of painkillers. There should be some in the bathroom in Rob and Brad’s room. They didn’t seem too keen on letting me have any after my little ‘stunt’ last year.

  
  


Looking up, I see the cinema and sigh a breath of relief as I realize I’m only a few blocks away from home.

  
  


I cross the road and tug my thin t-shirt closer to me, wondering why it’s so damned cold this April. Or maybe it’s just me that’s cold....

  
  


My eyes scan the various buildings that line this run down part of town as I pass them, hopefully for the last time. I smile as I pass the local shop, remembering the time when Rob and I got absolutely drunk one night and went in there when we’d ran out of drink. We ended up knocking down the magazine stand and of course, we got thrown out.

  
  


I shake my head and turn the corner into my street, Joe’s words still whirling around my mind as I get closer to home.

  
  


_~ Do us all a favor and leave us alone, yeah? Why don’t you take another overdose, hey? Only this time, make sure it works? ~_

  
  


I shiver as I head up the steps to the apartment and unlock the door. I push it open and slam it to behind me.

  
  


Looking up I see Brad, Dave, Rob and Chester sprawled across the two couches, digging into some chinese take-away.

  
  


“Hey,” Brad smiles through a mouthful of rice, “What happened to you?”

  
  


“Why don’t you ask Joe?” I scowl, kicking off my trainers.

  
  


“Ask Joe what?”

  
  


I look up to see Joe appear from Brad and Rob’s room. His smile fades as he sees me.

  
  


“Nothing,” I hiss, dropping my bag to the floor as I head past them and into the kitchen.

  
  


I open the fridge and scowl as I see there are no bottles of beer left in it. Sighing, I slam it shut and begin to rummage through the cupboards in sight of the bottle of vodka.

  
  


“Looking for something?”

  
  


I jump and swing around to see Rob at the sink beside me, filling his glass with water. He stops the tap and turns to face me, leaning back against the sink as he takes a sip of his drink.

  
  


“You okay?” he asks, “Why did you bugger off this afternoon?” he sighs as I spot the vodka, hiding behind a half empty packet of cornflakes.

  
  


“Just had to sort something out,” I lie, standing on tiptoes as I try to reach it.

  
  


I finally pull it down and place it on the counter, slamming the door shut as I do so.

  
  


“What?” he asks, taking another gulp of his water.

  
  


“Nothing,” I sigh.

  
  


“Joe seemed pretty pissed off with you,” he sighs, nodding his head toward him.

  
  


“And?”

  
  


“Well, what were you two arguing about this time?” he asks, eyeing up the bottle of vodka as I pick it up.

  
  


“Like I said before, why don’t you ask him?” I sigh, pushing myself away from the counter about to leave for my room.

  
  


“Mike,” Rob sighs, stepping in front of me to block my path, “Please talk to me,” he sighs, placing his hand on my shoulder, “I miss you Mike,” he shakes his head, looking down to the floor, “I know things have never been good for you, but I miss the way you used to be,” his eyes are back on me again as he waits for me to say something.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” I sigh, pushing him off me, “But like Joe said,” I pause, raising my voice.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Nothing,” I sigh as I storm off into my room, slamming the door hard behind me.

  
  


I slide down it, hitting the floor with a thud as I close my eyes, tightening my grip on the bottle between my hands as Rob begins to shout at Joe.

  
  


“Joe, whatever you two were arguing about will you please tell me?”

  
  


“Oh it was nothing, I was just spelling a few things out to him.”

  
  


“Like what?”

  
  


“I don’t remember, I was just trying to make him see how much he’s hurting everyone.”

  
  


“What did you say to him?”

  
  


“I can’t remember Rob, calm down, it’s not the end of the world.”

  
  


“Joe, I’m fucking worried about him. What did you say?”

  
  


“I just said that we were all running out of patience with him.”

  
  


“What did you say that for? You know how he gets.”

  
  


“I’m sorry, I was just trying to help.”

  
  


“Help?”

  
  


“Guys, just calm down will you?”

  
  


I open my eyes as Brad cuts in.

  
  


My eyes blink several times before I look down at the bottle of vodka; the answer to all my problems. I slowly get up off the floor and step over to the set of drawers beside my bed. I place the bottle down on top of it and open the top drawer. Under the piles of lyrics that have been scrawled down onto various pieces of paper and a few Cds I find what I’m searching for. My hands shakily pull out the small bottle of antidepressants that were prescribed to me last year. The bottle is almost full. I place it down next to the vodka as my eyes meet with a photo album; the only one I own. I pull it out and turn to the first page, sighing as I see a slightly crumpled and faded picture smiling back at me.

  
  


It was taken when I was just a few weeks old, I’m wearing a tiny blue hat, resting in my mom’s arms, a small yellow teddy bear poking out from the blanket I’m wrapped up in. My dad is sat next to us, his hand wrapped protectively around her shoulder. We’re all smiling. Smiles that are so real, so happy.

  
  


Why did they have to give me away?

  
  


I feel tears falling down my cheeks as I shut the book and place it down on my bed. I reach into the drawer and pull out that very same Teddy bear. It looks back at me innocently, it’s fur is slightly faded and messy and one of the eyes is now missin but it’s smile remains the same; it’s neat red stitching still slightly crooked. Sighing, I place it on top of the photo album and push the drawer to.

  
  


I shakily stand up and pick the pills and vodka up. Joe and Rob are still shouting. Shouting at one another because of me. I sigh as I step into my bathroom and lock the door behind me.

  
  


They won’t have to for much longer. I’ll be gone in no time, leaving them to get on happily, just like we all used to.

  
  


Sitting down against the door I unscrew the bottle of pills and pour the contents into the palm of my hand. There must be at least thirty there. I pull the cap off the bottle of vodka and take a swig. I wince as it the liquid slides down my soar throat, burning it some more.

  
  


I close my eyes as Rob and Joe's shouts become louder. Opening them, I realize they must be in my room. I begin to shake as I hear them pounding on the bathroom door.

  
  


“Mike, open up. Mike are you okay? He didn’t mean it. Joe didn’t mean what he said.”

  
  


I hurriedly grab a handful of the pills and shove them in my mouth, taking a few gulps of the vodka to wash them down.

  
  


“Mike?” Rob’s voice gets louder, “Mike? Just let us know you’re okay. Please Mike, don’t do anything stupid.”

  
  


I look down at the rest of the pills that lie in my hand and take a breath as I prepare to swallow them.

  
  


To end this shit.

  
  


I take a swig of the vodka and pop a few more of the pills into my mouth.

  
  


“Mike please.”

  
  


I am just about to swallow the contents down when I feel the door move behind me.

 

I fall to the floor, whacking my head on the tiles as the door snaps open.

  
  


“Oh fuck, what the hell have you done?”

  
  


I close my eyes and clutch onto the bottle as I try and force myself to swallow the pills.

  
  


“Mike?”

  
  


I feel Brad and Rob next to me trying to lift me up. Someone’s hand is on mine, trying to prize away the bottle.

  
  


I suddenly feel violently sick and open my eyes as I attempt to push Rob and Brad away from me.

  
  


“Mike. How many have you taken?” Brad hisses as I curl up into a ball, “How many?”

  
  


I shake my head as he continues to stare back at me.

  
  


“Mike?”

  
  


I begin to cough and managed to slump over the toilet just in time to empty my guts out into it.

  
  


“You idiot Mike,” Brad sighs as he kneels down beside me and rubs my back, “What did you go and do that for, hey?”

  
  


I feel tears returning to my eyes as I spit out the last of the lethal cocktail from inside me.

  
  


I slam the lid shut and rest my head against it, hiding underneath my arms as I break down into tears.

  
  


“It’s alright, dude,” Brad soothes, pulling me into his arms. I turn and begin to sob against him as the reality of what I just tried to do again hits me.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” I sob, “I’m sorry Brad.”

  
  


“Sssh,” he whispers, “Lets get you into bed, yeah?”

  
  


I slowly nod and move away, looking up to see four more frightened faces staring back at me.

  
  


“Maybe we should get him to the hospital?” Rob asks, his voice shaking as Chester and Brad help me to my feet.

  
  


“No,” I croak, “Don’t, please don’t,” I beg.

  
  


Rob looks from me to Brad and back again.

  
  


“Mike after last time,” he stops, “Just so we know you’re okay?”

  
  


I shake my head as I stare back at him through my tears, “No Rob,” I cry, “Please don’t make me go there,” I beg.

  
  


Suddenly I feel my knees buckle beneath me as I begin to panic. I crash back down to the floor, cracking my head on the tiled floor.

  
  


“Mike?”

  
  


“Shit, I think someone should call an ambulance.”

  
  


My vision becomes blurry and my heart begins to beat faster as their shouts begin to drift further and further away from me.

  
  


I feel my eyes close as I struggle to grip onto Brad’s hand.

  
  


But it’s no use.

  
  


I can no longer breathe.

  
  


This is it.


	3. Chapter 3

“And then he said to her, ‘I’m not who you think I am’, you should’ve seen the look on her face....”

  
  


I close my eyes as Brad continues with another one of his jokes, occasionally stopping to laugh and forgetting the punch line in the process.

  
  


I’ve been here for the past four days. Stuck in this awful hospital, in this bed that I swear to God has a mattress made out of metal. It’s so hard that I’ll probably end up having to stay here a while longer just so they can fix my broken back.

  
  


I feel a lot worse, physically, than I did before I came in. I haven’t eaten much, because I would not even consider touching the food, if that’s what they can call it, in here with a barge pole. Even I could cook better meals than they provide, and that’s saying something. I also have barely slept a wink since I woke up in here, surrounded by Rob, Dave, Brad and Chester. Yeah, Joe didn’t bother to stick around. I wonder why?

  
  


I’m too scared to sleep, you see. I have this phobia of hospitals. That’s why I panicked the other day when Rob suggested bringing me here and ended up passing out. Hospitals bring back a whole lot of extremely bad memories for me. Memories of my childhood, when on several occasions I’d ended up in here after been beaten by those monsters who adopted me.

  
  


I’d rather not think about those times, but it’s pretty hard not to when I’m surrounded by the same machines and equipment that scared me half to death when I was younger.

  
  


“Not long now, hey?”

  
  


I look up at Rob who is perched on the end of the bed stuffing himself with the grapes that he brought in for me.

  
  


Grapes. Why do people always bring you grapes when you’re in hospital? Maybe it’s some unwritten rule that I didn’t hear about...

  
  


“Chester will be here soon then we can get going,” he smiles, scrunching the empty paper bag up into a ball.

  
  


“Yeah,” I sigh.

  
  


“You’re cool with him moving in, right?”

  
  


“Yeah,” I nod.

  
  


He must be crazy wanting to share a room with me. I mean, look at me, I’m a total nut case.

  
  


“It’ll cut the rent down,” Rob smiles, “Besides, he’s a real nice guy,” he continues.

  
  


Which is true. After I collapsed on Tuesday, he called the ambulance and then drove the others to the hospital. He stayed with them until I woke up and made sure I was okay. He popped in yesterday for a bit, asking me if I minded him moving in as he was on the verge of killing his roommate. Of course I said yes. I mean, he’s in our band now and even though I don’t know him too well, he seems like a genuinely nice guy. I mean he’s even driving up here after he finishes work to take me home. I don’t know why, but I just get this feeling we’re going to become really good mates.

  
  


“So,” Brad pauses waiting for me to acknowledge him.

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


“You’re going to take it easy for the next week, right?”

  
  


“Yes,” I nod, scowling at him.

  
  


“Don’t pull faces Mike, I mean it. The doctors say you’ve got to rest.”

  
  


“Yeah,” I sigh, “I will.”

  
  


“And remember you’ve got an appoint...”

 

Brad is cut off as Rob swiftly changes the subject, “So we thought we’d all chill together tonight,” he smiles, “Get some pizza in and what not, it’ll be just like old times,” he beams as I smile thankfully at him for interrupting Brad who was just about to remind for about the tenth time today that I have to see a psychiatrist next week.

  
  


He means well and I’m not being ungrateful towards his caring attitude. If he was in my position I’d probably be fussing over him just as much.

  
  


I can see Brad is about to hiss something back to Rob but he is saved as the door swings open, revealing Chester and Dave.

  
  


“The chivalry has arrived,” Chester beams, “Your carriage awaits.”

  
  


I smile back at them as Dave passes me a bag of clothes for me to change into.

  
  


“Thanks bro,” I nod as I place the bag onto my lap and dig out the jeans, boxers and hoody from inside it, “I hope you weren’t going through my underwear drawer?” I laugh.

  
  


“Damn my secret’s out,” Chester sighs, “Okay, confession time. I have a fetish for men’s boxers,” he says in a pretty serious voice, “Oh, I like the lacy thong you have too,” he laughs, winking at me, causing the rest of us to join in.

  
  


“You, you have a lacy thong?” Dave splutters, through his laughter.

  
  


“Hey, it’s for special occasions only,” I joke, shaking my head.

  
  


“Right,” Rob nods, “Nice to see someone’s got his sense of humor back,” he smiles.

  
  


“You need one when you’re stuck in here,” I retort.

  
  


“Well, we’ll be waiting outside for you,” Brad nods as the others file out of the room, leaving me to get dressed.

  
  


“Okay,” I smile as he closes the door behind him.

  
  


I get up off the uncomfortable bed and rip the gown I’ve been forced to wear off me. I pull on my clothes and shoes, before taking a look at the room, praying that I never ever do anything stupid and end up back here again.

  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  


“Welcome home, then,” Rob grins, draping an arm around me as he pushes the front door open and we follow the others inside.

  
  


“Thanks,” I smile as he leads me over to the couch and pushes me down on it, “Put your feet up,” he grins, passing me the remote to the TV as the others flop down around me, “And I’ll order some pizza,” he smiles, heading over to the phone that is mounted on the kitchen wall.

  
  


“I’ll just take a quick shower first,” I announce as I get up, “I stink of hospital,” I scowl as the others stare back at me, uneasy looks upon their faces as they obviously remember what happened the last time I was in my bathroom.

  
  


“I won’t lock the door,” I sigh, shaking my head as I walk over to my room, “You can come in and watch me if you want,” I call as I push the door behind me.

  
  


I guess I shouldn’t have said that, really. They’re only being like this because they care. I smile as I realize I do actually have four good friends who care about me. I think it’s probably about time I showed them how much I care too.

  
  


Looking around the room, I see that I can actually see the floor. I smile as I scan my wardrobe and see that the clothes are actually in it. It looks like someone’s vacuumed it too. I look to the other side of the room to see neatly stacked boxes containing Chester’s belongings.

  
  


Remembering the reason I actually came in here, I grab a clean set of clothes from my wardrobe and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

  
  


My heart begins to pound as my eyes nervously scan the room, images of me trying to take my own life flashing before me.

  
  


How could I have been so stupid? At the time I just didn’t want to live anymore, but looking back I was just really, really angry about everything. I never meant to do it.

  
  


I try not to let my tears fall as I think what would’ve happened if I had died. I’m so happy that I’m here right now and to think that I might not be here this minute makes me feel so scared.

  
  


Taking a deep breath, I count to ten, pushing all the ‘what if’s’ and ‘whys’ to the back of mind before I undress and step into the shower, submerging myself in the warm water as I wash away the sterile smell that seems to be clinging to me.

  
  


A good ten minutes later I step out into the now steam filled bathroom and wrap a big towel around me. I quickly dry myself, have a shave and get dressed knowing that if I take too long Brad will only start to panic.

  
  


When I’ve finally finished I head back to the lounge grabbing a blanket on my way as I begin to shiver again. I think that cold I have is starting to get worse.

  
  


Brad smiles back at me and pats the space on the couch between him and Chester as I make my way over to them, wrapping the thick blanket around me before I plonk myself between them.

  
  


I lean my head against Brad half listening to the conversation that’s going on as I drift off to sleep.

  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  


“Hey, wake up dude.”

  
  


I slowly open my eyes as Brad voice pulls me out of my sleep.

  
  


“Pizza’s here,” he grins.

  
  


“Thanks,” I smile, sitting up a little and taking a piece from the box he thrusts towards me.

  
  


“So,” I take a bite, “Where’s Joe?” I ask.

  
  


“He, erm, he didn’t think it’d be a good idea to come,” Rob explains as he flicks through the channels on the TV.

  
  


“Why?” I ask, wondering what exactly he did tell them.

  
  


Dave looks across at me, raising an eyebrow, “Mike, he told us what you said,” he sighs.

  
  


“Okay,” I nod, “What did he tell you?” I ask, knowing that he probably twisted the truth a little here and there. Well, that’s Joe for you.

  
  


Rob places the remote down and turns to face me, “Well,” he sighs, “He told us that you were arguing and that he ended up saying something along the lines of everyone was sick of you and we were getting pissed off with you, which isn’t true. You know that right?”

  
  


“Yeah, I know,” I nod, “So he didn’t tell you anything else?” I ask, picking at the topping on my slice of pizza.

  
  


“If you mean did he tell us what you said, then yes,” Brad nods, “He did.”

  
  


“What I said?”

  
  


“Look Mike, we know what happened and it’s over know, right?”

  
  


“No, coz I bet you he didn’t tell you the truth. What did he tell you I said?” I sigh, trying to keep my anger under control. Joe isn’t exactly one of my favorite people right this minute, not after what he said. He put the whole thought of committing suicide into my mind again and I’m not in a hurry to forgive him. Then again, I doubt, well I at least I hope that he didn’t mean it. I mean, we all say and do things we don’t mean when we’re angry, don’t we?

  
  


“Okay,” Brad sighs, “He told us that you flipped and said that you wished that you had died last summer and that you were going to take another overdose and asked him to pray that it worked.”

  
  


I almost drop my pizza as the words leave his mouth. Joe’s lied to me plenty of times before and he’s the last person I’d trust with my bottom dollar, but I’d never think that he’d tell such a fucking bullshit lie like this.

  
  


“He, he really said that?” I ask, thinking maybe I heard wrong.

  
  


“Yeah,” Rob nods, “It’s okay though, we understand, kind of. Let’s just forget about it hey?” he sighs turning back to the TV.

  
  


“Forget about it?” I hiss, looking up at him, “It’s fucking bullshit Rob, he’s a fucking liar,” I almost yell.

  
  


“What do you mean?”

  
  


“You wanna know what was really said, hey?”

  
  


“What, you mean you didn’t say that?” Brad asks, a frown creasing across his forehead.

  
  


“No I did not,” I sigh, taking a breath as I attempt to calm myself down, “He’s the one that said that. He said that I should do you all a favor and leave you alone. He said I should take another overdose and make sure it worked this time,” I hiss, staring back at their shocked faces.

  
  


“Mike, c’mon,” Dave sighs, “Joe wouldn’t say something like that. And even if he did, he wouldn’t mean it.”

  
  


“Well guess what,” I sigh, getting up, “He did say that and he did mean it,” I hiss, storming back into my room.

  
  


I slam the door behind me and flop down onto my bed, wrapping the blanket around me as I feel tears in my eyes again.

  
  


Sighing, I roll onto my stomach, burying my head deep into my pillow as I try to stop crying. I am so fed up of all of this. Arguing with my mates, crying every minute of the day and feeling so down. I just want it to all end, I just want to be happy.

  
  


Maybe that’s too much to ask for though?

  
  


I’m too busy crying that I don’t hear the door open. I don’t even realize that someone else is in the room before I feel someone sitting down on the bed.

  
  


“You okay?”

  
  


I slowly turn to see Chester smiling weakly back at me.

  
  


“What must you think of me, hey? I bet you think I’m a right loon,” I sigh, wiping my eyes as I sit up and face him.

  
  


“Not at all,” he smiles softly.

  
  


“Sorry about all this,” I sigh.

  
  


“Don’t be, there’s no need to apologize,” he tells me, “Listen,” he pauses, “I kind of have a pretty good idea of what you’re going through,” he sighs.

  
  


“Hey?”

  
  


“I’ve never told this to anyone before,” he says nervously, glancing down at his hands.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“I had a pretty shitty childhood,” he pauses to look at me, “I tried to kill myself a couple of years ago,” he sighs looking back down to his hands.

  
  


I stare back at him, not really sure of what to say, “I’m, I’m sorry to hear that,” I almost whisper, placing my hand gently on his shoulder.

  
  


“Yeah,” he pauses seeming just as speechless as I do right now.

  
  


He knows what I’m going through.... I never thought that other people felt this low... I always thought I was some kind of lunatic that really needed locking up.

  
  


An awkward silence drifts between us for us for a few minutes before Chester takes a breath and breaks it.

  
  


“So, I know we barely know each other, but I figured that, well,” He stutters, “I guess if you need to talk to me, don’t hesitate to ask, yeah?” he smiles.

  
  


“Yeah,” I smile back, feeling relieved that maybe, just maybe this guy has a pretty good idea of how I feel, “Thanks,” I nod, “Thanks Chester.”

  
  


“S’ok,” he smiles, “You, er, coming back to the others?” he asks me hesitantly.

  
  


“No,” I sigh, “I think I’ll get some sleep. You go back in,” I smile.

  
  


“Remember what I said,” he nods before getting up from my bed and heading to the door.

  
  


I let out a sigh as he closes it softly behind him. I want to believe that he can help me, but I’m not so sure.

  
  


I tug my covers over me and snuggle down into my bed. I’ll worry about everything tomorrow. Right now all I wanna do is sleep.

  
  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  
  


“What exactly did you say?”

  
  


“I told you.”

  
  


“Tell me again.”

  
  


“Why?”

  
  


I slowly open my eyes and blink several times as they adjust to the morning sunlight that filters in through the curtain behind me.

  
  


“Hey, you feeling better now?”

  
  


I look up to see a dripping wet Chester standing in the doorway to the bathroom, a towel draped around his waist.

  
  


“Yeah, thanks,” I smile, kicking off the bed sheets as I stretch my arms behind me.

  
  


“Rob was right about not needing an alarm clock in this house,” I sigh as I step over to the door, “Who’s Brad arguing with now?” I scowl as I catch sight of the clock.

  
  


It’s only eight o’clock. Who the hell has he found to argue with at eight on a sunday morning?

  
  


“Oh,” Chester pauses as he grabs a pile of clothes, “It’s Joe.”

  
  


“Joe?”

  
  


“Yeah,” he nods before disappearing back into the bathroom.

  
  


I slowly open the door and see Joe and Brad in the kitchen glaring at one another. What the hell is he doing here?

  
  


“Look, I don’t know why he said that. He’s off his head half the time anyway, I mean come on he’s not exactly the sanest of people, is he?” Joe sighs.

  
  


“Just because he’s depressed it doesn’t make him some kind of nut case,” Brad yelled back.

  
  


I lean back against the door, the two of them still unaware that I’m listening.

  
  


“Brad he’s a fucking loon,” Joe spits, “He tried to kill himself, remember?”

  
  


“Yeah, and who put the idea of that into my head,” I hiss, finally making my presence known.

  
  


They both spin round and stare at me, probably trying to figure out how much I heard.

  
  


“It’s okay Joe,” I sigh, “I wasn’t expecting an apology. I just thought you might have had the decency not to wake me up at this time in the morning,” I growl, turning back into my room.

  
  


I slam the door behind me and flop back down onto my bed with a thud.

  
  


“I hate to judge people,” Chester sighs as appears fully clothed this time, in the doorway, “But that guy’s a bit of an asshole,” he states, pulling on a black beanie hat.

  
  


I smile and roll onto my back, “You got that right,” I nod as the door opens.

  
  


Chester and I look up to see Brad standing there with a stern look upon his face.

  
  


“He’s gone,” he sighs, “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he carries on.

  
  


“S’ok,” I sigh, “He can’t help being a complete asshole,” I spit, glancing across to Chester.

  
  


“Hey, Joe’s far from that Mike,” Brad sighs defensively, “Look, whatever problems you have, they’re between you and Joe, not the rest of us. Okay?”

  
  


“Hey, I didn’t ask you to get involved.”

 

“Yeah, yeah I know, but...”

  
  


“Ugh,” I sigh, pushing myself up off the bed, “I don’t need this Brad,” I mutter as I head into the bathroom and slam the door shut behind me.

  
  


I lean back against the door wondering when the hell I’m going to stop being the cause of all the shit that goes on in this house.

  
  


I sigh and catch sight of myself in the mirror.

  
  


“What is going on with you?” I whisper to my reflection.

  
  


I shake my head and get up from the wall, stripping as I step into the shower.

  
  


Wouldn’t it be great if I could wash all my problems away?

  
  


Shame it’s so much harder than that, though.

  
  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  


“Wow, dude that’s fucking amazing.”

  
  


I look up from my sketch book to see Chester is standing in front of me. I was too engrossed in my work that I didn’t even hear him come in.

  
  


“Can I see?” he asks, motioning towards the drawing I’ve been slaving away at for the past hour.

  
  


“Sure,” I nod.

  
  


It’s supposed to be a fairy, but at the moment it looks like a demented seagull. I’m way too tired to be doing this, but I have a deadline to meet.

  
  


“That’s looking pretty damn good,” Chester grins, passing me my book back.

  
  


“You think?”

  
  


“Yeah,” he nods, plonking himself down on the floor beside me.

  
  


“Thanks,” I sigh, pushing the book away and resting my head on the carpet, “What time is it?”

  
  


“Er, six thirty. You hungry?”

  
  


“Nah,” I sigh.

  
  


Besides, if I sit down and start eating I’ll never get up off my ass and finish this work off. Why the hell did I choose to go to college?

  
  


“You sure?” Chester asks.

  
  


“Yeah, I’m fine,” I nod, picking my pencil up again.

  
  


“Where are the others?”

  
  


“Brad’s at his parent’s house and Rob’s asleep, I think.”

  
  


I pull my sketchbook back and sit up a little as I attempt to draw some detail onto the wings. After a few attempts I drop my pencil and let out an exasperated sigh. Sometimes my motivation to do things just goes right out of the window. Now is one of those times.

  
  


“You know what?” I sigh, slamming the book shut, “Food sounds good,” I nod, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

  
  


I pull the freezer open and rummage through it attempting to find something that’s not past it’s sell by date. I tug a pizza box out from the very bottom and slam the door shut.

  
  


“Pizza?” I call to Chester.

  
  


“Sure,” he nods, making his way into the kitchen.

  
  


I shove it into the microwave and jump up onto the counter.

  
  


“So, what have you been up to today?” I ask as Chester sits himself down next to me.

  
  


“Just went and fetched the rest of my shit from the dorms, oh and had a huge argument with my ex,” he shrugs.

  
  


“Oh. What happened?” I ask, hoping I don’t sound too nosy. I just wanna get to know this guy. I do share a room with him !

  
  


“Oh he was just pissed because I didn’t tell him I was moving and I didn’t tell him I was joining your band,” he rolls his eyes, “We split two months ago and he still thinks he owns me.”

  
  


He. I smile, slightly glancing at Chester.... So, he likes guys?

  
  


I don’t realize I’m staring at him until he opens his mouth and says something.

  
  


“Oh, sorry?”

  
  


“I said I think the pizza’s done,” he grins, jumping down and heading over to the microwave which is emitting it’s high pitched beep.

  
  


I blush and jump down, grabbing a plate from the table.

  
  


“So,” he smiles, placing the pizza on the plate, “What about you?”

  
  


“Huh?”

  
  


“What have you been getting up to all day?” he asks again as I follow him through to the lounge.

  
  


“Not much,” I sigh flopping down beside him on the couch, “I’ve been trying to get some work done but I can’t keep my mind on it,” I scowl, “I’ll do it tomorrow,” I nod, glancing at the pile of books on the floor before I take a slice of pizza.

  
  


He nods and we both sit in silence as we carry on eating.

  
  


“Hey.”

  
  


I look up to see a disheveled Rob stumbling out of his bedroom.

  
  


“Thought I could smell summit cooking,” he yawns, plonking himself down beside me and grabbing some of the pizza, “Mmm,” he smiles, taking a bite.

  
  


“Where’s Brad?”

  
  


“Parent’s house.”

  
  


“Dave?”

  
  


I shrug, “He only stays here when he feels like it,” I explain to Chester, “I don’t actually think he lives anywhere. He just dosses at other peoples places,” I chuckle.

  
  


“I think he’s living with that chick of his at the moment. What’s she called? Tia? Leah?” Rob asks.

  
  


“Your guess is as good as mine,” I smile as the door bell rings out.

  
  


I get up from the couch leaving Rob to remember which girl Dave is fucking this month. I swear he’s had more girls than I’ve had hot dinners.

  
  


I pull the door open and almost drop my plate as I see Crystal. What the hell does she want?

  
  


“Hey,” she smiles, flicking her newly died blue hair out of her face.

  
  


“Hey,” I nod, stepping out of the door a bit, “I’d let you in,” I pause, pulling the door closed a little, “Only Rob’s here,” I sigh.

  
  


Basically, Rob hates Crystal. He’s the only one who knows that I used to fuck her in order to get drugs. I say used to because I swore to him that I’d never see her again.... Oh well, I guess I broke my promise, right?

  
  


“So, er, what did you want?” I ask, leaning back against the wall.

  
  


She looks up at me nervously, “I, er,” she stops, glancing away for a split second, “I, okay,” she pauses, clearing her throat, “I need my money.”

  
  


I stare back at her, my mouth gaping open.

  
  


“You, you’re kidding, right?”

  
  


“Look I’m sorry Mike,” she sighs, fiddling with one of the rings on her finger, “I didn’t want to have to ask but I really need the money.”

  
  


I carry on staring back at her at is she as just told me the worst new of my life. Woah, hold on. She has. Let me explain; the deal was that I have sex with her and in return she gives me a little bit of weed or something here and there. She swore to me that I’d never have to pay.

  
  


“Mike?”

  
  


“What?” I snap.

  
  


“Money.”

  
  


“You swore.”

  
  


“Oh gosh,” she rolls her eyes, “Listen up kiddo. I need the money you owe me. Pronto.”

  
  


“You’re such a fucking whore,” I spit back.

  
  


“If I’m a whore, what does that make you? Hey?” she hisses, inching closer to me,

“You’re the one that’s having sex in return for drugs, not me,” she smiles.

  
  


I stare back at her, knowing that she’s completely right.

  
  


“Look, If you don’t give me it I guess I’ll just have to call Gus,” she smirks.

  
  


Gus. Her pimp. The one who supplies her with her drugs for their clients.

 

“Yeah, but if he found out you’ve been giving me them for free....”

  
  


“You’re so fucking naive Mikey,” she snarls, looking me up and down, “Listen, all I have to do is make the call. Tell him that you said you’d pay me, come on, no one’s gonna know anything else, are they? Besides, who’s going to believe you?”

  
  


“But you fucking promised,” I hiss.

  
  


“Lesson in life for you Michael. Promises mean nothing. Got it? So you go fucking find me my money and I’ll be back on Friday to collect it. Mess me around and you’re dead. Got it?”

  
  


I slowly nod my head as she turns and races down the steps.

  
  


I cannot begin to explain how fucking scared I am right now. Gus is not to be messed with. He was at my High School, in the year above me. I remember one time he broke a guy’s arm, just because he looked at him ‘the wrong way’.

  
  


I could laugh at this whole situation, really. I mean it’s not funny but how fucking stupid was I to believe Crystal? Why the hell did I never think that she might do this to me. God, it’s how she lives. I bet she’s done it a thousand times before. Befriended some guy who’s hooked on weed, got them onto hard drugs and promised them some free gear in return for sex. Then when she’s had enough, she’ll make them pay up and if they don’t - wham - they probably end up getting killed.

  
  


You only here about this crap in films, don’t you? So why the hell am I caught up in this situation.

  
  


“Oi.”

  
  


I jump as realize Rob is calling me.

  
  


“Who was it?” he asks as I step back in and shut the door behind me.

  
  


“No one,” I almost whisper as I place the plate down on the table.

  
  


“Oh, I thought I heard you chatting to someone?”

 

“No,” I shake my head as I head into my room.

  
  


“Mike? Are you okay?” I hear him call as I close the door quietly.

  
  


“No,” I answer to myself, “No I’m fucking not okay.”

  
  


I slide down the door and land on the floor with a thud. It feels like I’m climbing a never ending mountain. Every time I think things are going to be okay, along comes something and knocks me back down again.

  
  


Will I ever reach the top? Will there ever be an end to all this shit?


	4. Chapter 4

Weird. Everyone's bound to think I'm weird. I don't blame them, I mean, it's true. I'm a freak. Always have been, probably always will be. I got branded a 'geek' at school. Even though the others stuck by me, I could always feel it, I was the freak of their group. Freak. Yeah, that's me all over, complete freak. Complete loon.

 

Don't worry I'm only feeling sorry for myself, as Joe puts it. Only going through the whole of my messed up life in my head, once again. I can't help it though. People, doctors, everyone, tell me to move on, stopping cutting myself up about the past but I can't. No matter how hard I try to look forward to the future I always fail.

 

Fail.

 

Failure.

 

Yeah, that's me all around.

 

Born with parents who didn't want to know, parents who gave me up because  _they_  couldn't cope. What, and they thought I  _would_  be able to cope? Oh, I cope alright, I drive myself into self destruction and everything's just peachy.

 

I mean, look at me, nineteen years old and what do I have to show for it? What have I achieved? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I'm in a college that's on the verge of kicking me out, my friends are gradually losing their patience with me and I have less than twenty four hours to come up with a three figure sum of money that I owe Crystal..... How the hell am I supposed to look forward to the future, hey?

 

I'm meant to be optimistic about the fact that this time tomorrow night I'll probably be dead, after being beaten to a pulp by Gus? As much as I wouldn't mind dying, I'd rather it be a far less painful procedure than that. Maybe we'll come to some sort of agreement, I'll think of a way to talk him into putting a bullet in my head instead of torturing me for God knows how long, somehow.

 

Yeah, if only.

 

I've got half the money. Just over half, actually. I've even done extra shifts at the burger bar I work in every night this week, even though I was under strict instructions to stop at home for at least a fortnight and rest. I'm just begging that she'll be happy enough with that for now at least give me another week and I'll be able to pay her. That will be one of my problems sorted I guess.

 

Then I just have to some up with super fast miracle cures for depression and suicidal thoughts.

 

Miracles don't happen though, do they?

 

Well, incase you didn't notice, they certainly don't in my life.

 

I jump as my phone begins to ring. Sighing I fish it out of my back pocket. I stare at the screen of my cellphone as the word 'Crystal' flashes in time with each ring, waiting impatiently to be answered. I quickly press the 'cancel' button and drop it to the floor where it clatters and lands upside down on top of piles of books and paper.

 

I'm supposed to be studying. I have some exam coming up next week, that I didn't even know about until I overheard Joe moaning about to Brad last night. So right now I'm revising for an exam that I have no idea what it's about and hardly any notes to study from in the first place. My head is pounding like hell only I can't take a paracetemol because Brad and Rob went and hid all the medication after my little suicide stint.

 

I flop down against my bed, sighing heavily I as reach over to the nightstand and grab my notebook. My precious notebook, the one I've had since I was about fifteen. That's when things started to get really tough at 'home'. I say home like that because really, it wasn't a home, was it? A place where I was supposed to live, supposed to be looked after by those two monsters. The place I spent sixteen years of my life living in fear, too scared to let anyone, let alone the authorities know what they were doing. Only Brad knew... only because he saw it happen one night......

 

I was eight years old.  _Eight_  years old. Brad wanted me to go and play football with him and the others in the park one afternoon after school. I told him I was going home to get changed first then I'd meet him back in half an hour by the field. So off I went, looking forward to having a kick around with my mates, like most eight year olds probably do, I guess. I got home, dumped my bag by the door and headed upstairs, shouting out to  _her_  that I was home. I got changed, sped back downstairs and grabbed a can of coke from the kitchen. That's when I bumped into  _her_. I asked if it was okay to go out and she told me 'No'. So I asked again and some more, begging her to let me go out for just ten minutes or so. And still she refused. I guess I crossed the line really, I should've left it, I know I should...... She hit me. Hard. Across the face. I cried. Cried and cried, started screaming at her. She picked me up and dragged me upstairs, locked me in my room.

 

I just sat there on my bed, crying for hours on end until finally I heard the front door opening. It was  _him_ , back from work, dead on six o'clock just like every night. I heard them arguing as soon as he stepped in the door, arguing over me. Raised voices, the sounds of glasses breaking, then the sound I dreaded. The sound of his footsteps on the stairs.

 

That's when I knew.

 

That's when I knew what was going to happen.

 

In a matter of seconds the door was unlocked, my stepfather in the doorway, eyes black, full of anger, a menacing look upon his face.

 

He didn't say a thing as he slammed the door behind him and marched over to where I was sat, curled up on the bed. No words escaped his lips as he began to  _touch_  me, not a word as he begin to rape me, thrusting himself in and out of me violently, ripping my insides to shreds. Nothing. Just groans and gasps as he came inside me, strong hand clasping over my mouth as I tried to scream, the other pinning me down as I tried to struggle free.

 

Then it was over. He was off me, buckling up his belt as I curled into a ball, clutching my stomach as I tried to suppress the pain inside of me, silent tears falling from my eyes as I felt a stinging sensation where blood was once again pouring from within me. That's when I heard it. A tiny sniffle.

 

 _He_  spun round, my head snapped up.

 

Brad.

 

He was in the doorway, football clasped under his arm, tears streaming down his face. The ball slowly fell from his clutch and bounced along the floor as my stepfather neared him, leaning down so he could whisper in his ear. _"Not a word or I kill the both of you."_

 

And from that day on, we kept it quiet.

 

To this day, he's the only one that knows what went on, he's the only one I trust to know.

 

I glance back down at my notebook, wincing as the words of pain and anger come to life. Like I said, I got this book when I was fifteen. That's when  _he_  tried to rape me again. He succeeded, leaving me with broken ribs in the process. I just got on though, cleaned up the mess and  _swore_  to myself that it had never even happened. That's when I started to write in here. Little verses and poems, pages of thoughts and feelings. I needed someway of getting out my emotions, how I was feeling.

 

I don't know if I dare even read any of the earlier entries.

 

Maybe one day, this will all be over, I can burn this book, along with all the bad memories of my life, start over again.

 

"Hey."

 

I jump and slam the book shut as I see Chester standing at the doorway to our room. I wonder how long he's been there......

 

"Hey," I finally manage to mutter, reaching across to the small set of drawers by my bed and shoving the book deep inside it.

 

"Good day?" he asks, pulling off his bag and heading over to his bed. He flops down and closes his eyes briefly, before turning to face me, waiting for an answer.

 

"Okay, I guess, you?"

 

"Ugh. Not really, I have a shitload of work due in tomorrow so it looks like I'll be doing that for the rest of the evening," he scowls, sitting up. He removes his glasses and begins to clean them on his T-shirt. I smile back at him, noticing for the first time how friendly and bright his eyes are.

 

"You been keeping yourself busy then?" he chuckles, placing his glasses back on as he nods to my mess of work on the floor.

 

"Yeah," I sigh, flopping down onto my stomach.

 

"You look tired," he sighs,"You feeling okay?"

 

"Yeah," I sigh,"No."

 

"Oh," he hesitates, sitting himself down on the edge of my bed,"You wanna talk?"

 

"Nah," I shake my head,"I'll be okay in a minute."

 

"Okay," he nods,"As long as you're sure."

 

"Yeah."

 

"You want a drink or anything else?" he asks, getting up.

 

I shake my head.

 

"I'm just gonna take a nice, cold shower, maybe it will wake me up, help me get some work done," he sighs, grabbing a pile of clothes from his closet.

 

"Oh, nearly forgot," he smiles, heading back to his bag,"Hope you don't mind, but I wrote this song last night, well it's just a couple of verses, thought you might want to see," he pulls out a sheet of paper and passes it to me,"Let me know what you think," he calls, heading into the bathroom, the door shutting behind him with a click.

 

I take the piece of paper and begin to read through his neatly formed writing.......

  
  


_There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface_

_Consuming, confusing_

_This lack of self control I find so overwhelming_

_Controlling_

_I can't seem to find the strength within, my walls are closing in_

_I've felt this way before_

_So insecure......_

 

_Discomfort endlessly has laid itself upon me_

_Distracting, reacting_

_Against my will I stand beside my own reflection_

_It's haunting_

_How I can't seem to find the strength within, my walls are closing in_

_I've felt this way before_

_So insecure......_

  
  


I stare back at the piece of paper, mouth open as the lyrics scream themselves back at me.

 

Chester, he, he wrote this and this, this is how  _I_  feel.

 

I seem to sit here, just staring back at it, reading over and over the words. He knows how I feel? I mean, does he feel this way too?

 

I finally snap my eyes away as the bathroom door opens and Chester appears, changed and rubbing his hair dry with a towel.

 

"You, you wrote this?" I ask.

 

"Yup," he frowns,"It sucks doesn't it....."

 

"Chester, you have no idea how much," I pause, my words seem to get jumbled in my head,"I think we're going to have a good time writing stuff together," I nod.

 

"You like it?" he asks, breathing a sigh of relief.

 

I nod and smile,"Can I hang onto this?" I ask, glancing at the clock. It's almost six and I'm meant to be at work in fifteen minutes.

 

"Sure," he nods.

 

I smile and pull out my notebook, carefully placing it in the back, before I shove it into my bag,"Thanks," I nod, pulling myself up from my bed. I head over to my wardrobe, dodging pieces of screwed up paper and books that litter the floor. I pull off my hoody and fish out my black shirt, turning to face Chester as I pull it on.

 

"Thursday nights are always dead, so I might be able to jot down a few ideas for this, if it's oka..." I stop as I realize he is staring back at me open mouthed.

 

My head snaps back and I quickly turn away, as I realize what he just saw.... My scars...... I hastily button my shirt up, wanting to be out of here as soon as possible.

 

"I'll, er, see you later," I mumble, grabbing my bag and racing out of the room before he has chance to say 'bye'.

 

_Freak._

 

I saw it in his eyes.

 

He thinks I'm a freak, I know it, I know he does.

 

What's the guessing he'll be gone when I get back?

 

_Freak._

 

I told you I was a freak.

 

Everyone thinks so.

  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  
  


"Burgers?"

 

"Twenty two, no,  _thirty_  two. Oh fuck, hold on let me check ag......"

 

"Shift Shinoda."

 

I look up as Dave passes me his pen,"I'll count, you write the number down okay? You can manage that, right? Know how to write your numb...."

 

"Okay," I hiss, sitting up on the stool and grabbing the pen from Dave as he lets out an exasperated sigh. Sarcastic git.

 

"Dude, are you okay?"

 

I jump slightly as his voice runs through my ears.

 

He pulls the box of burgers onto the counter and begins to count through it. I said it would be dead tonight. I was right, that's why Dave and I got lumbered with ordering next months supplies.... just great......

 

"Mike?"

 

"Huh? Sorry," I sigh, snapping out of my thoughts.

 

"Bro, you look really ill," he states, his eyes watching over me like a hawk.

 

"I don't feel too good either," I sigh, twiddling with the end of the biro.

 

"You should go home, get some rest. Joe will cover for you, he could do with the extra cash anyway."

 

"So could I," I sigh,"I'm fine," I sigh, glancing up at the clock, squinting at the hands as they slowly tick around. Five to eleven,"Only an hour to go anyway," I mumble.

 

"Seriously Mike, you look like you're about to pass out..."

 

"Just because it's slacking out there, it doesn't mean the two of you can start slacking too.... Good god Mike, are you okay?"

 

I look up to see Eric, the owner of this poor excuse for a diner, standing at the door, wiping his greasy hands on an ill fitting apron. He steps over to me,"Are you doing drugs Mike?" he asks,"Because, you know, I've told you before. What you do in your personal time is up to you, just don't come into work high on god knows wh....."

 

"I'm not," I sigh, bringing my hand up to rub my head. It's burning, in fact my whole body feels like it's on fire.... I really do  _not_  feel good at all.....

 

"You should go home Mike, if you're not well."

 

"Only an hour, I might as well stay, beside like I told Dave I need...."

 

"Don't worry, I won't dock your wages, you've been a good help this week," he smiles,"Now you get going, it's hardly as if we're rushed off our feet here, is it? Want me to call you a cab?"

 

"No," I shake my head, getting up from the stool,"I'll walk, fresh air might do me good," I tell him, untying my apron and heading to the cloakroom.

 

I hear Dave and Eric talking about me as I push through the door and grab my bag. I yell goodbye before heading out of the back door, immediately glad of the slight breeze that's picked up outside.

 

I take the long route home. End up sat on a bench in the park somehow. I don't know how or why I ended up here. I just kept walking and this is where I found myself, that piece of paper Chester gave me clutched in my hands...... I don't know why, but I can't seem to get the words out of my head. They're so close to reality that it's kind of scary... hard to believe that he captured exactly what  _I_  feel......

 

I can't get the look on his face out of my head either. The look of shock, disgust as he realized I was.... I  _am_  a cutter, whatever you want to call it......

 

I sigh and stare back down at the paper, suddenly getting a wave of inspiration. I grab a pen from my bag and find myself scrawling down a short verse of words....

 

_Crawling in my skin_

_These wounds they will not heal_

_Fear is powerful_

_Confusing what is real_

  
  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  


I push the door open, immediately met by a very pissed off looking Brad.

 

"Do you like keeping your friends up all night worrying about you?" he shouts before I've even shut the door.

 

"What?" I ask him, locking the door behind me.

 

"I popped round on the way back to see if you were okay."

 

I look up to see Dave in the kitchen.

 

"It's three thirty in the fucking morning. We were on the verge of phoning the fucking cops. Anything could've happened," Brad yells. If the whole of the neighborhood weren't wasn't awake, they are now.

 

"It's half three?" I ask, shaking my head as I drop my bag to the floor.

 

Brad nods his head.

 

"Sorry," I sigh, rubbing my tired eyes,"I didn't realize."

 

"Yeah, well that's what you use this for," Brad hisses, grabbing my wrist and pointing to my watch.

 

"I'm sorry," I mumble as a wave of dizziness suddenly travels through my body. I stumble over to my room and quietly push the door open. I step in, a lamp is on in the corner of the room, Chester sprawled out on his bed listening to his discman. I shut the door behind me, hoping that he doesn't notice me as I step over to my bed, kicking off my shoes before I pull back the blankets and get in, way too tired to even take off my clothes.

 

As I snuggle underneath the blankets, a stream of light filters into the room. I blink as the light shines into my eyes and make out Brad's figure in the doorway. He tiptoes over to me and I shift up a little, allowing him to sit down beside me.

 

"Sorry I shouted," he whispers, taking my hand,"I was just worried," he sighs.

 

I gulp and blink back the tears that are rapidly forming in the corners of my eyes. Why am I always crying these days?

 

"You look so ill," Brad sighs, gently brushing my hair back out of my eyes.

 

I frown at him, begging my tears not to fall....  _begging_..... but it's too late... everything's always too late.

 

"Hey," Brad whispers,"What is it Mike?" he asks, his voice so soft, so caring.

 

"I'm scared," I sigh, my voice shaking.

 

"Of what?"

 

"Everything," I whisper,"Everything," I repeat, a sob breaking from the back of my throat.

 

"Ssh, it's okay," he soothes. He lies down beside me and pulls me into his arms, his hand gently running up and down my back as my tears begin to fall,"I'll stay with you tonight," he whispers,"You're safe with me."

 

But nothing, no words, no actions in this world can make me feel safe.

 

I'm scared.

 

So fucking scared.


	5. Chapter 5

"I take it you've got all the money?"

 

"Well, er, not quite......"

 

"What do you mean 'not quite'?"

 

"I've got the most of it. Just give me until next Friday, I get paid then......"

 

"Are you kidding? I told you, I wanted that grand, in  _full_ , today. Not next week."

 

I stare back at Crystal, all of a sudden finding her scarier, a lot more venomous than I'd ever pictured her as being. She was no longer the kind hearted woman that I'd once had a soft spot for. Hah. Stop kidding yourself Mike, she never was kind hearted. Kind hearted and Crystal do not go together. End of.

 

"Are you listening to me?"

 

I nod my head and look back at her, her deep blue eyes glaring back at me as she waits impatiently for me to answer her.

 

"Yes."

 

"So where is it?"

 

"What?"

 

"The money you owe," she snaps.

 

"Oh," I pause, pulling the envelope out of my back pocket and handing it over.

 

She snatches it away from, instantly ripping it open.

 

I watch as she counts it, glancing around the old warehouse that she instructed me to meet her in earlier on today. It smells of damp and is completely empty give or take a few old crates and a broken television which stand in the far corner.

 

She lets out a sigh and my eyes snap back to her as she shoves the wad of notes back into the envelope.

 

"You're down a hundred dollars," she spits at me, moving closer until I back against the wall, my head hitting it with a thud.

 

"I know," I almost whisper, my heart beginning to race.

 

She stares at me for a few more minutes before turning away and grabbing her phone from the back pocket of her trousers.

 

I watch her as she moves away, contemplating whether or not now would be a good time to run.

 

Possibly not, I don't think there are ever good times to run in these situations.

 

"Gus, hey."

 

My ears prick up as Crystal talks down the phone...  _Gus_... She moves away from me, quieting her voice so as I can't hear a damn word of her side of the conversation.

 

This is it. My life is officially over. In a matter of minutes I'm probably going to be laid in some gutter, beaten to a pulp.

 

Seconds later, Crystal makes her way back to me, a smirk upon her face.

 

"You've got until midday tomorrow, okay? Come back here with the rest of the money then. Understand?"

 

"What? How the hell am I supposed to get that much in less than a day?"

 

"Surely you've got some money hidden away. Mommy and Daddy must have given you some college funds, right?" she sneers.

 

I shake my head.

 

"Well ask your friends."

 

"They're as broke as I am....."

 

"Hell, does it look like I care? As long as you get the money, get Gus off not only my back, but yours too, okay? Rob a bank, mug some old lady, just get the money."

 

"You're one bitch, you know that right?"

 

"Yeah," she smiles, "I know and you're one whore, in fact, why don't I put a good word into Gus for you? He's looking for a couple more people to work on the streets. About all your good for really," she laughs.

 

I push myself up away from the wall, making my way out of the derelict warehouse, not even bothering to retaliate.

 

And you know why?

 

Because she's right.

  
  


\------

  
  


"You  _what_?"

 

I stare back at Brad and I swear that if I didn't feel so much like shit I would be in stitches, laughing at the comical look upon his face.

 

It's just that there's not that much to laugh about right now.

 

"You're kidding me, right?"

 

I shake my head, turning away from Brad. I just told him. I just told him that for the past two years I've been sleeping with a notorious hooker to feed my cannabis addiction. I just asked him if there was any chance he could lend me one hundred dollars.

 

Someone shoot me.

 

"Mike, I, I didn't even know that you, well that you had a drug problem," he stutters, "This is," he stops, "I need to get a drink."

 

I close my eyes, flopping back down onto my bed as he leaves my room quicker than roadrunner on speed.

 

I should've kept my mouth shut, right? I should've just begged that by some magical way the money would've made it's way into my hands.

 

"Fucking, ugh," I hiss, pulling my pillow over my head.

 

I remember when I was a kid, I used to think that if I hid my head under my pillow, I became invisible and that I could escape from my step parents yelling at one another all the time.

 

It didn't take me long to figure out I was just kidding myself.

 

It's a shame I can't stop kidding myself though, kidding myself that everything's hunky-dory.

 

I hear the door opening again and let out a sigh. The bed dips a little as Brad sits down and places his hand upon my back, gently running it up and down as he speaks.

 

"Sorry. It's just a bit of a shock."

 

I slowly push the pillow off me and open my eyes as Brad's voice breaks the eerie silence that had filled my room.

 

"Why didn't you tell me before?" he asks, his hand resting on my shoulder.

 

"I couldn't," I whisper, twisting a little until I lie on my back.

 

"Mike," he sighs, frowning, "Come here," he whispers, holding his arms out to me.

 

I sigh and sit up, immediately finding myself wrapped in his arms. I take a deep breath, my eyes closing as I rest my cheek against his chest, reeling in his comfort.

 

Sometimes I just wish that someone would hold me like this forever, keeping me safe, because I'm not half as strong as I make myself out to be.

 

I sigh and pull away, my eyes flickering open. I manage to muster up a slight smile, resting my head against his shoulder.

 

"How long has this been going on?" he asks, his fingers running through my hair.

 

"About two years," I reply, staring vacantly into space.

 

"Since we started college?"

 

"Yeah," I nod.

 

"And what? You owe this woman money?"

 

"Yeah," I nod again.

 

"How much did you say?"

 

"Just another hundred, I gave her the rest."

 

"Okay," he nods, "I'll get it for you tomorrow, I can get my wages from work, yeah? Just as long as you promise me one thing?"

 

I turn to look at him, tears filling my eyes again.

 

"You won't ever,  _ever_  do anything like that again?"

 

I nod my head, "I promise I won't," I whisper, my voice barely audible as tears begin to escape from my eyes.

 

"Thank you Brad," I tell him through my sobs as he pulls me into his arms, "Thank you."

  
  


\------

  
  


Morning comes all too soon, even sooner when you don't want the next day to happen, let alone already be here.

 

I open my eyes, sitting up a little as I blink, vision adjusting to the morning sunlight that filters in through the window behind me.

 

"Good Morning."

 

I glance across to Chester's bed where he is sprawled out on it, a bunch of books in front of him.

 

"Hey," I smile, running a hand through my matted hair.

 

He smiles and turns back to his work, letting out a sigh as he slams a book shut.

 

"What's up?" I ask him, kicking the sheets off me.

 

"If I don't get these four essays in by Monday, I get kicked out. I'm on my 'final warning.'"

 

"What? Why?"

 

"I kinda got behind on my work last year and now my lack of effort is finally catching up on me. I'm seriously thinking of packing it in. I mean, there's no way I'm going to be able to take my final exams this year. I'm only going to have to repeat my final year and to be honest with you, I don't really think it's worth it."

 

"I know what you mean. At the rate I'm going I'll be there until I'm about thirty trying to get everything done."

 

"Yeah," he chuckles, "I'm thinking of getting a job instead. Just something to keep me going until we're all famous rock stars," he laughs.

 

"We're probably going to need to practice a hell of a lot more before anything like that  _actually_  happens," I smile.

 

"Yeah. We should get together tonight, it's ages since the six of us practiced."

 

"Sure, I'll let the others know," I smile - if I'm still alive- I think to myself wryly.

 

I get up and head into the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind me before I take a much needed cool shower.

 

I barely slept a wink last night. Everytime I closed my eyes I seemed to end up reliving my meeting with Crystal or my confession to Brad. Then when I finally did manage to get to sleep I was haunted by nightmares, images of my childhood.

 

Something I thought I'd grown out of.

 

Obviously I was wrong. Very wrong.

 

I sigh and shut off the shower, grabbing a towel off the radiator I dry myself off. Heading back into my room I pull on some clean clothes, offering to make Chester some breakfast as I head into the kitchen.

 

"Just a coffee please," he calls as I practically bump into Brad on my way out.

 

"Hey."

 

"Hey."

 

"Sorry about last night," I sigh.

 

"What about it?"

 

"For breaking down like a complete idiot second night in a row......"

 

"You shouldn't be embarrassed, it's better to let things out rather than bottle them up," he smiles slightly, "I'm glad you told me."

 

"Me too."

 

"Listen, I'm off to work now. I finish at twelve, where do you want me to meet you?"

 

"It's a warehouse, the other side of the main road to the studios, you know where I mean."

 

"Yeah," Brad nods, shoving his feet into his trainers, "Don't worry okay? Thing's will get better after all this is over, I promise you. I'm gonna help you, okay?"

 

I smile and nod at Brad, for the first time in ages feeling a slight glimmer of hope inside me.

 

Only a  _slight_  glimmer, mind.

  
  


\------

  
  


Eleven fifty seven and six seconds.

 

Exactly two minutes and fifty four seconds to go.

 

I sit against a wall of the warehouse, knees pulled up to my chest, my fingers drumming nervously against the ground as I wait for Brad to arrive. A good ten minutes has been spent watching cars fly by on the road beside me, praying that none of them pull into the dusty parking lot, praying that Brad gets here before  _they_  do.

 

I lean back, tilting my head up to the sky, watching the small, plump clouds pass one another by. Squinting slightly everytime the sun exposes itself......

 

My mind wanders back to the matter in hand as I hear the screeching of tyres and I look up to see a blacked out BMW pull up a few yards in front of me.

 

Taking a deep breath, I get to my feet, watching in fear as the driver's door opens and a large, burly man steps out. My eyes are fixed upon his body as all twenty stone of it makes it way around to the passenger side and opens the door. A few seconds later and Gus steps out, dressed entirely in black, dark shades covering his eyes.

 

I gulp.

 

This isn't real. This stuff only happens in gangster movies right? Any minute now, he's going to pull out an AK-47 and let loose with the bullets......

 

"Mike, nice to see you."

 

I frown as he steps over to me, security style bouncer guy close behind him.

 

The doors are unlocked and he nods his head at me, motioning for me to get my ass over to him. I glance around, looking for Brad but there is no sign of him. I promptly make my way over to him, trying to control my breathing as my mind imagines the kind of beating I'm going to sustain.

 

I follow Gus into the building, greeted once again by the over powering damp stench as the doors are shut behind me.

 

"So," Gus begins, "It's a long time since I've seen you," he smiles, spinning around quickly, stopping me in my tracks.

 

"Must have been back when you were in High School," he nods, "Anyway, we're not here to reminisce," he smiles, "Money?"

 

"My friend, he's bringing it here in a minute," I blurt out, my heart racing as Gus' face contorts into a twisted smile, eyes flicking up towards the bouncer guy who is stood close behind me.

 

"Okay, you've got until five past," he sighs, "Crystal was telling me that you were interested in work," he smirks, "She said that you'd make a very good rent boy."

 

I stare back at him, willing myself not to retaliate, I think I'm in deep enough as it is......

 

"So are you interested?" he asks, a small chuckle leaving is throat.

 

"No."

 

"Shame, Darron here was looking forward to trying you out," he grins, pointing to the large man behind me.

 

I shudder and cross my arms over my chest as he glances at his watch, "Ooh, time's nearly up," he nods.

 

I twist my head back toward the door, "He's probably outside, I should go see...."

 

"Darron will check," he smiles, nodding for him to go.

 

"Such a pretty young thing too," Gus smirks, stepping closer to me as Darron pulls the door open, "It's okay, if you don't have the money then you can always work for me, pay it back that way. I'm sure you'd get a lot of punters," he whispers, hand upon my cheek, "They go for kids like you. Big brown eyes and innocent smiles," his voice teases.

 

I shiver again, feeling sick to the pit of my stomach as he continues to leer at me, hand trailing down my side, resting on my hip.

 

"I do hope your friend gets here soon," he whispers, inching himself further against me, "It would be such a shame to have to mess up this pretty face of yours."

 

I take a deep breath and turn my face away from him, begging, begging that Brad walks in any minute now.

 

"I'm sure that we wouldn't have to go that far though," he leans his face mere centimeters from mine, causing me to flinch as his hot breath makes contact with my cheek, "Like I said, there are plenty of other ways you could pay me back."

 

I step back only to have his hands grasping my shoulders, pulling me back towards him.

 

"Any sign?" he calls to Darron, his grip on me tightening more and more by the second.

 

"No," comes the answer, followed by the sound of the large wooden doors being pulled shut.

 

"Shame," Gus sighs, grabbing my arm, "Time's up."

 

"Just wait a minute, I'm sure he'll be he....."

 

I don't finish what I was saying as I am pushed to the floor, my head smacking against the cold concrete, eyes snapping shut as a sharp pain soars through the back of my neck.

 

"You've messed us around enough, pretty boy," Gus sneers as I slowly open my eyes, my heart stopping as I see Darron towering over me, baseball bat held firmly in his right hand.

 

"Don't look so scared," he snickers, patting Darron on the back, "All yours," he chuckles, standing aside.

 

I don't have a chance to think, let alone try and move as Darron grabs me, pulling me to my feet. He slams me against the wall and I slide down it helplessly, closing my eyes as I hear the sound of the bat being swung back before it connects with my chest, instantly knocking the air out of my lungs.

 

Then he doesn't seem to stop.

 

I try to fight back, try to struggle against him as he pins me down to the ground, punches and kicks connecting with my body, but it's no use. I'm not half as strong as him.

 

All I can taste in my mouth is blood as his fist slams into my jaw over and over again, sick laughter coming from Gus as I try my best to push him away.

 

But he doesn't stop. Despite my protests, my pleads for him to get off me, he still continues to thrash into me.

 

"What the hell are you doing?"

 

My eyes snap open and Darron finally stops as a voice rings out through the building.

 

I look up, wincing in pain, my eyes meeting with Brad.

 

"Get the fuck off him," Brad hisses, stepping towards us.

 

"So you must be Mike's little friend?" Gus spits, "Money?"

 

"What the hell have you done to him?" Brad gasps as Darron moves away from me, his hand still clamped firmly around my wrist.

 

"Just taught him a little lesson. Now do you have the money, or do you want some of this too?" Gus laughs, towering over Brad.

 

"You sick fucks," Brad hisses, "Look at him, what the hell have you done?"

 

"Listen. He's messed me around and I don't take kindly to being messed around, understand? So either you hand over the money, or like I said, you'll be getting some of this....."

 

"You're fucking sick. Do you get off on this or something?" Brad snaps back, stepping closer to Gus.

 

"Brad, don't," I plead, clutching my stomach as I try to get up. He doesn't know just how dangerous these people are though, does he?

 

"Right," Gus sighs, "Money."

 

Brad looks from me to Darron and back to Gus again, a look of disgust upon his face as he delves into his jacket pocket and passes Gus the wad of notes.

 

Darron finally lets go of me and steps over to Gus, his footsteps echoing throughout the empty warehouse.

 

"Thank you," Gus spits, fingering through the notes, making sure it's all there before he turns back to me, "Nice doing business with you," he grins, "Don't forget about what I said. I know plenty of men that would kill to have a little rent boy like you....."

 

"What the fuck did you just say?" Brad hisses, shoving Gus in the back.

 

"Brad, don't, just leave....."

 

My attempts are wasted as Gus spins round, a monstrous look upon his face, "I've had just about enough of you. Darron, sort him out."

 

"No, just, please, leave him," I beg, trying to get to my feet.

 

I can't even move though, my head is feeling heavier and heavier and I can barely breathe, let alone stand up in time. In a matter of seconds Brad is pinned against the wall, trying to fight back against the twenty stone figure of Darron, and failing miserably.

 

"Stop it, just leave him alone, this is nothing to do with him," I yell.

 

But he doesn't stop and there is nothing I can do, absolutely nothing whatsoever that I can do as my best friend gets the life beaten out of him.

 

I try screaming, try getting to my feet as Darron delivers more punches, more blows with his baseball bat.

 

I try so hard to persuade him to stop, screaming at him that it's nothing to do with him as blood begins to pour from Brad's head, from his arms.

 

I can do a damn thing to stop it.

 

"Please, just stop," I yell out again, out of breath.

 

"Darron. I think that's enough," Gus calls, signaling him over to the door.

 

The bat is thrown to the floor, and Brad's limp body falls to the ground with an eerie thud as Darron lets go of him.

 

"Brad?"

 

Gus flashes me a sickening smile as he and Darron calmly make their way out of the dust filled building, pulling the door shut behind them. A few seconds later I hear the sound of breaks screeching as their cars drives off.

 

"Brad?" I call again, crawling over to his body.

 

He lies face down in a pool of blood, legs and arms crumpled up.

 

"Brad?"

 

I'm crying now, fat tears dripping down my bruised cheeks as I gently shake him.

 

"Oh God, Brad, please, please," I choke on my tears as my fingers search for a pulse in his neck; in his wrists.

 

I don't find one though, he's not breathing, he's stopped breathing......

 

"Brad, please, wake up," I beg him, searching through my pockets for my phone.

 

I can barely breathe as I shakily dial 911, my vision blurring through tears and dizziness as I try to concentrate.

 

"Emergency services, which service do you require?"

 

I close my eyes, hand clutching onto Brad's, begging him to be okay, praying that he's okay, "Am... Ambulance."

 

"Address please?"

 

"I don't know," I choke out, finding it harder and harder to breathe. I hear the woman on the other end of the line asking me something, but the words don't seem to make sense in my head as I feel myself falling and falling.

 

That's when everything goes black.


	6. Chapter 6

I slowly open my eyes, blinking several times as they adjust to the bright light above me.

 

"I think he's coming round......"

 

I frown. Where the hell am I? What the hell is happening to me? I begin to panic as I feel someone's warm hand on top of mine, someone's voice softly speaking to me.

 

"Mike?"

 

I turn my head slightly, my vision a little blurred and bring my right hand up to rub the sleep away from my eyes. Blinking again, I see Chester beside me, his hand wrapped tightly around mine.

 

"Ch--- Chester?" My voice is hoarse, and it pains me to talk.

 

He smiles back at me, "Hey, how are you feeling?"

 

"I, what am I doing here? Are we in hospital?" I ask, my voice panicking a little.

 

He slowly nods his head, looking across to the other side of the bed that I'm in. I follow his gaze and see Rob and Joe sat beside me too, concerned looks upon their faces.

 

I frown, "What's going on?" I ask them, wincing as a sharp pain shoots through my head.

 

"Mr. Shinoda."

 

I look up and see Dave with an unfamiliar guy in a dark suit.

 

"Do you remember what happened, Mike?" Chester's voice rings through my ears. I slowly turn towards him, closing my eyes, then opening them once more as all the answers come flooding back to me.

 

I slowly nod my head at him, choking back a sob as images of having the life beaten out of me flash through my mind.

 

"I'm Doctor Harris," the guy in the suit states, "Mr. Shinoda, you were very badly beaten," he continues, "You're a very lucky man. You've just bruising and cuts and a couple of broken ribs. We'll be keeping you in for observation for a few days," he tells me.

 

I slowly nod my head, barely taking in what he is telling me. I just keep seeing that guy thrashing his baseball bat into me, I keep hearing the things he said to me over and over again.

 

Then all I see is Brad, lying next to me... Oh God... Brad....

 

"Where's Brad?" I gasp, "Where is he? You've got to let me see him, let me---"

 

Chester grips my hand tightly, glancing across to the others once again.

 

"He's in intensive care, Mike," Joe tells me, pausing as I look across to him. His eyes are red and puffy. He's been crying. Joe's been crying.... Joe  _never_  cries.

 

"He's gonna be okay though?" I whisper, my fingers curling around Chester's hand, feeling a whole lot safer when he places his other hand on top of mine, gently comforting me.

 

"He's, he's in a pretty bad way," Joe continues, stopping as he glances up at the others, his eyes resting on the doctor, "He should pull through though, right?" he asks him.

 

The doctor sighs, glancing down at the clipboard he clutches in his hands, "My colleagues are working as hard as they can to ensure that he survives," he pauses, "I will let you know on his progress," he tells us, stopping to look at me before he turns and heads out of the door, closing it quietly behind him.

 

I stare at the door, tears forcing their way out of me, because I know, I know so well that he's not going to be okay.

 

He's not going to make it, is he?

  
  


\------------

  
  
  


The room is dark and cold, the half shut blinds allowing a little light from the neon street lamps to filter in through the open slits.

 

Apart from the soft sound of Chester and Joe breathing as they sleep, the faint sirens of ambulances in the distance and peoples' footsteps lightly making their way down the corridor the room is silent.

 

I sigh and slowly sit up a little, my thick sheets rustling with my movements. A sharp pain rushes through my chest and I flop back down against the mattress, defeated.

 

Another sharp pain rips through my chest and I begin to cough, almost feeling as if I am being suffocated by my own oxygen. I take a deep breath but that just makes it worse. I begin to panic as the pain increases and it starts to become harder and harder for me to breathe.

 

"Fuck. Mike, are you okay?"

 

I look up at Chester as he gets to his feet, still half asleep, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

 

"I, I can't---" I stop as another pain soars through my throat, followed by another coughing bout.

 

Chester practically runs from the room, shortly returning with a nurse.

 

She helps me sit up, propping me up by the pillows as she places an oxygen mask over my mouth.

 

I close my eyes and lean back against the soft pillows, my breathing slowly getting back to normal.

 

Chester sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed, gently tucking the covers back around me as the nurse leaves.

 

I sigh and look back at him, a frown upon his face as he gently traces his fingers over the bruises on my jaw.

 

"Who did this to you Mike?" he whispers, his brow furrowing.

 

I slowly look away, a sob choking out from the back of my throat.

 

"Mike?"

 

His cold hand gently tilts my head back to look at him, his eyes questioning mine.

 

I sigh and slowly pull the mask away from my mouth, "I-- I can't----"

 

I stop and frown as I hear footsteps racing down the corridor, both our heads snapping up to the door as it swings open.

 

Dave and Rob smile back at us, stopping to catch their breath before they continue grinning.

 

"What?" Chester frowns.

 

"He's okay," Rob grins, "Brad's okay. He's gonna be alright!"

 

I stare back at them in disbelief, a smile slowly creeping it's way across my face, "He's-- He's really gonna be okay?" I ask.

 

"Yes!" Dave grins racing over to me, "He's okay."

 

"Oh god," I whisper as Dave throws his arms around me, laughter and sighs of relief coming from Rob and Chester.

 

"What's--- What's going on?"

 

Dave pulls away from me as the four of us turn to see a sleepy Joe blinking back at us in confusement, his hair slightly flattened on one side from where he has been laid.

 

"Brad's okay," Rob grins at him, his words seeming to instantly wake him up.

 

"He is?" Joe's eyes widen as we all nod back at him, "Oh thank God," he shrieks, throwing his arms around Chester and Rob, "I thought he wasn't going to make it," he stops, "When can we see him?" he grins, "Well?"

 

"Would you mind keeping it down in here? It's three am and people are trying to sleep."

 

We all look up as the door opens and a nurse pokes her head around it, a stern look upon her face.

 

"This is a hospital, not a late night rave," she hisses, glancing around at the five of us, "And visiting hours ended ages ago, you four should not be in here."

 

"Sorry," Dave offers, clearing his throat.

 

"Can we see him, then?" I ask hopefully.

 

"Yeah, the doctor says we can go in one by one, but just for a few minutes, he needs to rest," Rob explains.

 

"Off you go then," the nurse scowls at them.

 

"Can I see him too?" I ask,

 

"In the morning maybe," she sighs, placing the oxygen mask back over my mouth, "You need to get some sleep too."

 

I sigh and lye back down, nodding my goodbyes as Rob, Joe and Dave file out behind the nurse.

 

I swiftly remove the mask, grabbing Chester's hand as he gets up, "Will you tell him I'm sorry?" I whisper.

 

"Sorry? Wh-- what for?" he frowns.

 

"Please?"

 

He slowly nods as he heads toward the door, stopping to look back as he reaches it, "You get some rest, okay?" he smiles, "I'll come by tomorrow."

 

I smile back at him as he quietly shuts the door.

 

Maybe things are going to be okay.

  
  
  


\------------

  
  
  


Morning's been and gone along with the afternoon and I still haven't been allowed to go and see Brad. I've been sat here for what seems like forever, staring at the ceiling, listening to the clock as it steadily ticks each second of the world away.

 

The others came back early this morning right after they'd seen Brad. They told me that Brad was asking for me and he was stable, considering what had happened. They left soon after, for fear of the nurse chasing them out again, telling me that they'd pop by later on tonight with some things.

 

Maybe they won't be being so sympathetic when they find out that the reason Brad and I are in hospital is very much my fault......

 

I sigh and roll onto my side, wincing as a pain soars through my ribs, causing me to lie onto my back again. I shift for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable but it would seem that 'hospital beds' and 'comfortable' don't work well together.

 

Glancing up at the clock, I let out an exasperated sigh. It's almost eight pm and I still haven't seen Brad.

 

I sit up a little, trying to remember where the others said he was. It was four in the morning when they were here and I was still feeling pretty groggy, but I think they said he was in intensive care....

 

I slowly swing my legs out of the bed, shaking a little as I put my feet on the cold floor, stopping to catch my breath before I shakily stand up. I grab the white dressing gown from the chair beside me and pull it on over the ill fitting hospital gown I've been forced to wear.

 

I rub my eyes, my vision slightly fuzzy as I no longer have my contacts in. Slowly, I begin to walk to the door, carefully opening it and stepping out into the cold corridor.

 

I glance up at the signs on the wall, running my finger along the chart as I try to figure out how to find where the hell Brad is.....

 

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?"

 

I jump as I feel someone's hand upon my shoulder and spin round to see the stern nurse glaring back at me.

 

"I-- I wanted to see--" I stop as I as I see Chester turning down the corridor towards me, a smile upon his face as he spots me.

 

"You should be rest---"

 

"Can't Chester take me to see him?" I ask as he reaches us.

 

She sighs and rolls her eyes, "Okay, not too long though. I'll fetch you a wheelchair."

 

I smile as she heads down the corridor, Chester looking at me as he reaches my side, "What are you doing out of bed?"

 

"Will you take me up to see Brad?" I ask him.

 

He smiles and nods, quickly taking my arm as I feel myself swaying a little.

 

"The others are coming later on," he smiles, "They'll bring some clothes and shit for you. I've got a shift to work tonight, so I thought I'd come earlier. How are you feeling?"

 

"I'll feel better when I see Brad," I sigh as the nurse re-appears with a wheelchair.

  
  
  


\-------------

  
  
  


I almost faint when I see Brad. If it wasn't for the fact that Chester had his arms around me, helping me into the seat beside his bed, I probably would have.

 

I stare back at him as Chester sits down in the seat the other side.... I can't believe I let him get involved in all of this.

 

He looks so peaceful, sleeping quietly. I take his hand in mine, gently stroking it, it seems to be the only part of his body that hasn't been harmed. He's been beaten beyond recognition. His eyes black and blue, stitches along his right cheek and forehead. His arms are cut and grazed, thick welt lines along his left hand. I'm grateful that the white sheets cover the rest of his body, I don't even want to imagine what the damage is like beneath them.

 

I'm not even aware that I am crying until Chester suddenly shoots up from his chair and steps round to me, wrapping me up in his arms as I begin to violently sob.

 

"It's all my fault Ches," I cry, burying my head in his shoulder, "He shouldn't be lying here like this----"

 

"Ssh," Chester soothes, kneeling down beside me, gently wiping my tears away, "Listen, I don't know what happened but---"

 

"Mike?"

 

I quickly look up, my mood lifting a little as Brad slowly opens his eyes, blinking back at Chester and I.

 

"Brad," I smile, taking his hand once again.

 

He blinks a little, his frown turning into a smile, "Are you okay?" he asks urgently, "I was so worried about you---"

 

"I'm fine," I tell him, gently brushing my hand over his shaven head, "How are you feeling?" I ask him.

 

"I've felt better," he smiles.

 

"I'm sorry---"

 

"Don't."

 

"But Brad, I, this is my fault. I should never have gotten you involved, I should never have---"

 

"Mike," he croaks, "It's over. Right?"

 

I slowly nod my head, trying to ignore the questioning look that Chester keeps giving me.

 

"Hey Chaz."

 

Chester smiles back at Brad, gently patting me on the back as he gets to his feet, "I have to use the bathroom," he nods, clearly seeing that Brad and I need to talk.

 

I smile at him as he heads over to the door.

 

Brad nods and tries to sit up a little, wincing as he does so.

 

"I'm not sure if it's my back or these bed---" he suddenly stops, a frown upon his face.

 

"Brad?"

 

He continues to stare back at me.

 

"Brad, what's wrong?"

 

"It-- I can't-- br-- eathe--"

 

"Chester?"

 

"I'll go get someone," he tells me, racing through the door.

 

"Brad, just stay calm, you'll be okay," I tell him, trying to reassure him, and myself, "Where's it hurt?" I ask him.

 

"I-- Mike---"

 

I stop and stare as his eyes flutter closed, his lips moving, but what he is saying I can barely hear.

 

"Brad. Brad, open your eyes," I whisper, shaking him, "Brad. Please don't do this," I beg, "Brad---"

 

He starts to cough, his eyes flickering open as he meets my gaze, "I love you Mike," he whispers, "You're gonna be okay, I promise you."

 

"No, Brad don't---"

 

I stop, as Chester crashes through the door, nurses following closely behind him.

 

"Please, you've gotta help him. He was fine a minute ago, he just started---"

 

"Can you stand back please?"

 

I stand motionless as they pull machinery up beside Brad's bed, one nurse feeding a tube down his throat, more and more people surrounding him as I feel Chester pulling me back into his arms.

 

"What are you doing? What's happening?"

 

"Stay back please."

 

Chester's grasp around my waist tightens and I struggle against him, trying to get over to Brad. He can't go, they can't let him go...

 

I finally manage to break out of his hold, pushing my way over to Brad's side.

 

"Someone get him out of here."

 

"Brad?" I whisper, staring at him, "Brad... wake up... Brad?"

 

"Mike, stand back. They're trying to help him."

 

Chester's voice is in my ear, but I can barely process what he is saying to me as I shakily take Brad's hand in mine, shuddering at how cold it is.

 

"Mike," Chester whispers, gently prizing my hand away, "Mike---"

 

I slowly feel myself being pulled back by one of the nurses, watching as Brad grabs Chester's hand, whispering something to him. Chester simply nods before turning back to me, taking me over to the door where I stand motionless, watching this unreal scene unfold before me.

 

I can't hear what anyone is saying. I can't feel Chester's arms around me, although I know he is holding me tightly against him.

 

All I can see is Brad. Brad, my best friend, right in front of me. Doctors and Nurses scurrying around him, blood, machinery, but I can't feel a thing......

 

"Stand back."

 

"Clear."

 

"Nothing."

 

I stare ahead of me, only catching parts of sentences, only half noticing what is happening to my best friend. I don't feel like I'm here, I feel like this is all a bad dream, any minute now, I'm going to wake up at home and everything's going to be okay because this isn't real...

 

This isn't happening.

 

"Stand back."

 

"Clear."

 

"Nothing."

 

I can faintly hear Chester whispering something in my ear, faintly feel his warm hands running up and down my arms, but nothing seems to be registering in my head. The things he's telling me are just running away from my mind. Everything seems so far away, so surreal.

 

"Stand back."

 

"Clear."

 

"Nothing."

 

I feel so empty, no numb, I'm trapped. It's like I'm watching a film without the sound on, the scene playing before me with no words... so unreal... this isn't real... this isn't happening.

 

"Stand back."

 

"Clear."

 

"Nothing."

 

Then suddenly everything stops.

 

I stare at Brad, trying to catch my breath as the nurses slowly stand back, somber looks upon their faces.

 

Chester's grip around me tightens, his hands shaking as he tries to pull me back, protect me from what's happening.

 

Only he can't.

 

The words seem to ring through my ears forever, tingeing the eerie silence that has settled in the cold room.

 

I choke on a sob, falling to the cold, tiled floor with a thud as they leave the nurses mouth.

 

"Time of death, twenty thirty-seven."


	7. Chapter 7

Seconds pass, minutes pass, hours pass, days pass and I don't even notice what is happening around me. I'm unaware of the clouds that fill the sky, the sunrises and sunsets, the dark shadows that the moon casts upon the earth.

  
  


Unaware.

  
  


I no longer feel the need to live, to breathe.

  
  


I just want this pain to end, only I know that there's only one way to do that.

  
  


Do it for good.

  
  


I'm sick of crying. I'm sick of lying. I'm sick of everything, absolutely everything.

  
  


Empty. I feel so empty. It's like someone's torn my heart out and left me here to die. Left me here to rot in hell because that's what I deserve. My best friend has just been killed because of me. Because of  _me_. Do you know how low, how really, really low I feel right now?

  
  


I've been sat here, outside on the back wall, for over three hours. My legs are swinging over the edge as I gaze out over the town below me. The wind is cold and I only wear a thin T-shirt and some jeans... the T-shirt is Brad's. It was his favourite, a blue 'DVS' one, slightly worn and ripped but he always wore it none the less. It's seems like the closest thing I've got to him.

  
  


What I wouldn't do to have him right by my side this minute. It's barely been two weeks yet I miss him so much. I wish he was here so badly, asking me how I was, nagging at me, telling me to keep my chin up..... but he's not. He's not here anymore and that hurts more than anything.

  
  


His funeral was held yesterday. I'll never forget that day as long as I live. It just seemed to drag, it was so surreal. I didn't want it to be real, I didn't want to believe that it was happening.... I still don't.

  
  


I didn't even cry... I couldn't, it's like it hurt beyond tears.... it still does.

  
  


_Hurts_.

  
  


So much.

  
  


"Hey."

  
  


I look up to see Chester behind me, leaning against the wall,"You okay?" he asks.

  
  


I slowly nod my head and go back to watching the world go by beneath me. Looking out there, over the town, watching people go about their every day business, watching the traffic drive by. You wouldn't guess, you wouldn't have any idea that my best friend's just died. Looking out there, it's like nothing's happened but in here, inside me, that's when you see. You see just what has happened.

  
  


Brad has gone.

  
  


Forever.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I sigh and turn back to Chester as he places a hand upon my shoulder.

  
  


"Come on, let's go back inside," he tells me,"It's freezing out here, you're shivering," he sighs.

  
  


I nod, too tired, too weak to argue with him. Swinging my legs back over I jump down off the wall, smiling a little as Chester drapes his arm around me and walks me back inside.

  
  


"You sit down, let me get you something to eat," he smiles, closing the door behind us.

  
  


I stare blankly ahead, as if rooted to the spot as a scene of Brad and I arguing in the kitchen plays out before me....

  
  


He was telling me to stop drinking so much, telling me I was getting out of control again.... and did I listen?

  
  


No.

  
  


I just told him to leave me alone... pushed him away.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I jump as Chester's voice rings through my ears.

  
  


"You okay?" he asks softly,"Come on you, sit down," he tells me, taking me by the arm and leading me over to the couch.

  
  


I snuggle up into a ball as he drapes a blanket over me and sits beside me.

  
  


It's been like this for the past week now. Chester having to watch my every move, having to tell me when it's time get out of bed, time to eat, time to sleep... if he wasn't here I'd just be sat here forever... waiting for Brad to come back...

  
  


"Let me get something to eat, yeah?"

  
  


I look up at Chester and shake my head,"I'm not hungry," I whisper, my voice hoarse from crying.

  
  


He smiles,"That's the first thing you've said all week," he shakes his head,"Come on, when was the last time you had a proper meal?" he asks, tucking the blanket around me as I begin to shiver.

  
  


I shrug, not remembering the last time I ate properly... everything, time, the past few days, they seem to have merged together as if they haven't really happened... as if none of this is even  _real_.

  
  


"Well I'm not the best of cooks, but I'll see what I can do, yeah?" he smiles slightly, ruffling my hair up as he stands,"You get some rest, I'll wake you when it's ready."

  
  


I smile and close my eyes as his footsteps fade into the kitchen. Like I said, I'd be lost without him. Rob has moved back in with his parents for the mean time, just until he gets his head around everything, so it's just Chester and I at the moment. I feel sorry for him though, I mean it's like he's got lumbered with making sure I'm okay and normally,  _normally_  I'd tell him and everyone else that I could look after myself but not anymore because I know that I can't. I can't even look after myself anymore... what the hell is happening to me?

  
  


I shudder and open my eyes, my heart racing as I attempt to hold back my tears.

  
  


I can't even take care of myself anymore.... I  _can't_....

  
  


I slowly push off the blanket and get to my feet, stumbling a little as I head into my room.

  
  


"You okay?" Chester calls from the kitchen as he hunts through various cupboards for something edible.

  
  


"Yeah," I sigh as I push the door open. I step in and let the door close with a thud as I head over to the set of drawers beside my bed. Kneeling down, I open the top drawer and rummage through it's contents, finally finding the small, rectangular tin I was looking for. I grab it and shove the drawer shut before heading into the bathroom where I push the door behind me, my hand instinctively going to slide the lock across but I stop as I remember Brad took it off.... Just after I took that overdose a few weeks ago.

  
  


It's not right, is it? I was willing to take my own life but Brad, he didn't want to die... he wasn't  _meant_  to die.

  
  


And now.

  
  


Now he's dead.

  
  


I wipe away my tears, not having even realized when they had started to fall. Sniffing, I place the tin on the counter beside the sink and carefully open the lid.

  
  


It's a 'treasure' tin, you could say, but not full of money and jewels. No. It holds the one thing I started to rely on a  _long_  time ago.... way before I'd even thought of suicide, way before I left home...

  
  


Inside the tin, beneath some neatly folded tissues is a penknife. Someone gave it to me as a birthday present when I was about fifteen. Not a wise idea......

  
  


I click it open, pulling out one of it's blades. It's silver color is slightly bloodstained from the last time I used it. That must have been some time ago though, at least a couple of months. That's a record for me, that I haven't hurt myself for that long.

  
  


A record I'm about to break.

  
  


I place it down by the sink and slowly roll up my sleeve. Taking a breath, I take the blade between my thumb and forefinger and press against the skin on the inside of my arm. I start higher up than my wrists, knowing that it will take me a while before I start to cut  _really_  deep and I want to cut deeper on my wrists, because I know this will cause more pain.

  
  


Pain I  _deserve_.

  
  


I slowly push the small blade into my arm, wincing as I pull it across my skin. My stomach churns as the stinging sensation that I've waited for so long to feel rips through my body. A little blood runs from the tiny cut, but it's not enough.

  
  


My breaths are shaky as I push the blade into another section of my arm, dragging it across, pushing it deeper still, pulling it slower and slower, the pain beginning to subside a little as I repeat the process over and over again, making sure I push deeper and deeper into my veins.

  
  


Every cut for the wrong I've done. Every cut for the pain I've felt. Every cut for the times I've cried... and I keep going, keep going until I can no longer stand the pain, until my fingers are covered in blood, my hands shaking, my heart racing. Only then do I drop the penknife, stop myself from going  _too_  far.

  
  


I finally stare down at my wrist, watching the blood trickle down my arm, splashing into the basin beneath me, the tiny crimson droplets staining the white porcelain sink. Each droplet that falls is so precious, each droplet is a piece of my anger, my pain.....  _too_  much pain.

  
  


I shakily turn the cold tap on and hold my arm under it, watching as the water runs into a murky red color as it rinses each droplet of blood away.

  
  


I slowly look up and gasp as my eyes meet with my reflection in the mirror. My tear stained eyes pierce back at me, no longer bright and shiny, all the hope I ever had in me has gone... empty... I'm just empty now.

  
  


_Completely_  empty.

  
  


I look back down to my arm, tears spilling out of my eyes as they meet with the damage I've caused... I let out a sob and stare back up at the mirror, watching myself crumble before me. What have I done?  _What_  have I gone and done?

  
  


Crying is the only thing I seem to be capable of doing as I watch my reflection, watch my tears roll down my cheeks, watch my body shake with every sob.

  
  


This has got to stop... this has  _got_  to stop. I can't go on like this, I  _won't_.

  
  


I feel my legs buckle beneath me and I don't have the strength to stop myself from falling. I drop to my knees, my head flopping against the sink as my tears begin to fall harder and harder, until I'm sure I have no tears left inside me.

  
  


I slowly wipe my eyes with my right hand, my other one feeling slightly numb now as the cold water carries on running against my arm. My attempts at cleaning away my new wounds are futile. As the the thick blood is washed away, it begins to pour once more, running down my arm and splashing into the basin, over and over again.....

  
  


I shiver as I wonder if I went to far? What if the cuts don't stop bleeding? Would I even care? Wouldn't it be better if I were to...

  
  


My head snaps up as I hear Chester.

  
  


"Mike, you okay?" his voice sounds slightly concerned as he taps on the door. I scramble to my feet and grab a towel from the bath side, my heart racing as I wrap it around my arm, wondering how long he was out there.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I stare at the door and back to the sink, my ability to speak somehow going right out of the window as I shakily splash water around the sink, trying my best to wash away the pools of blood.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"I'm, I'll just be a minute," I call, my voice slightly hoarse.

  
  


"Okay," he calls.

  
  


I breathe a sigh of relief as I hear him walking away. I manage to wipe away the red blotches that line the sink and wash my hands, pulling the towel away as I roll my sleeve down, still feeling the blood flowing as I throw the towel to the bottom of the laundry basket.

  
  


My penknife is hastily packed away, hidden back underneath several layers of tissue paper. I grab the tin, shivering and turning away from the mirror as I catch my reflection once again.

  
  


I take a deep breath and open the door, my eyes scanning the sink for a final time, making sure I cleaned everything up. I tug my sleeve down a little further, holding the cuff of my hoody tightly with my fingers as I chuck the tin back into it's hiding place, buried, at the bottom of the top drawer.

  
  


I head out of my room and into the kitchen where Chester is serving up two big

plates of spaghetti bolognese. He smiles as he sees me and motions for me to sit down.

  
  


"Go make yourself comfy," he smiles,"I'll bring it over."

  
  


I nod and turn to the couch, plonking myself down as Chester comes in with a tray.

  
  


"Here you go," he smiles, placing the tray on my lap. He goes back to the kitchen and returns a few seconds later with another tray. Plonking himself down beside me he grabs his fork and begins to eat.

  
  


"Tuck in then," he tells me.

  
  


I reluctantly pick up my fork and scoop some of the hot food up, forcing myself to swallow the mouthful down.

  
  


"See it ain't that bad, is it?"

  
  


I jump and turn to Chester, not having realized he was watching me. I shake my head and smile as I begin to eat.

  
  
  


\------

  
  
  


"So, I didn't give you food poisoning then?" a voice giggles.

  
  


I rub the sleep away from my eyes and blink back at Chester, losing my bearings for a moment as I wonder where I am. Then everything comes back to me.

  
  


"No," I smile, shaking my head as I sit up,"What time is it?" I ask, pushing the blanket off me, somewhere along the line after finishing lunch, I must have fallen asleep, well,  _obviously_.

  
  


"Three thirty," he tells me, after glancing at his watch.

  
  


"Three thirty?" I repeat,"Damn, I've got work to be doing," I sigh, rubbing my eyes.

  
  


"You sure you feel up to it? I mean, I'm sure that college will understand if your work's late, considering the circumstances."

  
  


"No, I'll be fine..."

  
  


"What did you do to your hand?"

  
  


"Huh?"

  
  


"Your hand," he repeats,"What did you do?"

  
  


My heart begins to pound as I realize I have blood on my left hand. I pull my sleeve down and shrug.

  
  


"Nothing," I tell him,"Well, I, er, should have a look at the work I've gotta get---"

I stop as I realize he isn't listening to me.

  
  


"I, er, yeah," I stutter, getting to my feet only to be stopped by Chester as he grabs my arm and pulls me back down again.

  
  


"Mike? Who beat you up? Mike you're still badly hurt from what happened. Why won't you tell me who did this to you?"

  
  


I sigh, deciding to go along with the fact that Chester thinks I'm bleeding from an old injury... he hasn't stopped asking me what happened to Brad and I. I haven't stopped crying myself to sleep over it either, "It's nothing---"

  
  


"Mike," he sighs, "Let me see."

  
  


I stare back at him in fear, his eyes staring back into mine a frown upon his face as if something suddenly clicks.

  
  


"I have some things to be doing," I almost whisper, about to get to my feet once

again.

  
  


"Let me take a look---"

  
  


"I just caught one of the cuts that's all---"

  
  


He stares back at me, and just from his look, I can tell. He knows what I've done. He  _knows_. How can he though? How can  _anyone_  know?

  
  


"Lemme see," he almost whispers, his eyes on mine, almost like his trying to read what's going on inside my head. Only I won't let him, I  _can't_  let him know.

  
  


I sigh and look away from him, jumping slightly as I feel his hand on my shoulder. He slowly reaches over to my sleeve and then for some reason, for some  _stupid_  reason, I don't stop him.

  
  


I don't fight him away or yell at him. I just sit there, shaking slightly, as he carefully rolls my sleeve up, gasping as he sees what I've done.

  
  


"Oh God Mike," his voice is panicked and my eyes snap down to my arm. Dry blood has formed across my skin and the cuts are much thicker and deeper than I remembered.

  
  


My eyes slowly look up to meet Chester's and he stares back at me, his eyes questioning me again but what am I supposed to say?

  
  


Nothing.

  
  


Nothing is said as he slowly pulls me to my feet and takes me into the bathroom,

sitting me down on the stool as he rummages through the medicine cabinet.

  
  


No words are spoken as he begins to clean up the cuts, the silence is only broken as I wince every so often.

  
  


He disappears a few minutes later and returns with a roll of bandage. Setting it aside he gently rubs some ointment into the wounds. He wraps the white bandage around my arm, cutting it off and securing it with some tape.

  
  


We both remain quiet as he packs everything away and washes his hands.

  
  


"Thanks," I finally manage to whisper.

  
  


"S'ok," he answers, just as quietly,"I've had years of experience," he sighs, looking down at the palms of his hands,"Watching my brother have to do that everytime I cut myself up."

  
  


My eyes snap up to meet his.

  
  


"You're not alone," he tells me sullenly.

  
  
  
  


\------

  
  
  
  


I lye awake, staring up at the ceiling, my fingers absently tapping to the sound of the clock as it ticks the night away.

  
  


I've been here since about four o'clock after Chester told me I should get some rest. It's now the middle of the night and I haven't slept a wink.

  
  


I  _can't_.

  
  


The whole of this afternoon's events keep running through my mind.

  
  


He did it  _too_ , he knows what I'm feeling, he knows...

  
  


I gulp, tears spilling from my eyes as I pull my blankets tighter around me. I sigh and roll onto my side, immediately blinded by the lamp by Chester's bedside as he turns it on.

  
  


"You okay?" he asks, throwing the covers off him as he steps over to me. I shake my head as he crouches down beside my bed.

  
  


"You wanna talk?" he asks, gently placing his hand on top of mine. Strangely I don't find myself flinching away.

  
  


"I guess," I sigh,"But I don't know where I'd star---" I stop as Chester lightly tugs at my hand and motions me to follow him out into the lounge.

  
  


We sit down on the couch beside one another.

  
  


"What made you do it?" he asks, turning to face me.

  
  


I sigh and shrug my shoulders, "I don't know, I just needed some kind of release, I guess."

  
  


"You weren't trying to, you know," he pauses as our eyes meet.

  
  


"What?"

  
  


"Kill yourself?"

  
  


I flinch at the words, shaking my head, "No, not this time, although I probably should have done---"

  
  


"Don't say that."

  
  


"It's true. I should be dead, not Brad---"

  
  


"Don't. Don't you ever think that," he tells me, grabbing my hand.

  
  


I look back up to him, staring him dead in the eyes, "Why?"

  
  


"Because I don't want to lose another friend."

  
  


"And it's my fault you lost one in the first place---"

  
  


"No."

  
  


"No?"

  
  


"It wasn't your fault Mike, you've got to stop thinking that, because no one else does, only you, and it's not true, okay?"

  
  


I stare back at him, "Why are you sitting here with me?" I ask coldly.

  
  


"Because I care," he replies simply, "Is that a problem?"

  
  


I continue to stare back at him, wanting to tell him that, yes, it is a problem, that no I don't need his sympathy, his caring words, but for some reason, I don't. I can't.

  
  


Maybe it's because It's not a problem that he cares, maybe it's because I need his caring words. Only I can't let him know, I can't let him help, it will all end in tears, believe me, it will.

  
  


I quickly tug my hand away from his, leaning back against the arm of the couch, pulling my legs up against my chest, "You should go back to bed," I tell him, "Sorry I woke you."

  
  


"Is it a problem then?" he asks, ignoring me.

  
  


"You shouldn't waste your time caring about me Chaz," I sigh, "I'll be fine."

  
  


"Well I do," he persists, "Yeah I've only known you a few months, but besides, the fact that when Brad was dying I promised him that I would take care of you, I like you Mike, you're a good guy, it's a shame you can't see that yourself. And by the way, I don't break my promises."

  
  


He gets up from the couch, and glances at me one final time before heading back into our room.


	8. Chapter 8

There are days when I don't want to get out of bed, nights when I don't want to close my eyes. But still I soldier on, placing a happy mask upon my face, day after day.

  
  


'Cause I'm hoping, I'm waiting.

  
  


Waiting for the light at the end of this tunnel.

  
  


I think someone forgot to change the bulb though.

  
  


That glimmer of hope I always had is slowly beginning to fade once again.

  
  


All my emotions are steadily starting to drain away from me, that numb, empty feeling is washing through me once again.

  
  


It's indefinable really. I'm not sad, but no way am I happy, pleased to be alive. Nor do I want to die.

  
  


Truth be told, I don't know what I want anymore.

  
  


Nothing seems to be making sense at the moment.

  
  


Everything seems to be jumbled up inside my mind. Words, sentences, things I want to say are just blurred, blurry words with no meanings.

  
  


It's been almost two months now, since Brad was killed. The guilt I feel over that has not gone away, neither has the pain.

  
  


I had no choice, in the end, but to tell the police what had happened. Brad's mother came over to see me, a week or so after his funeral. She wanted answers, answers that I didn't want to give, answers I  _couldn't_  give.

  
  


She went away, telling me she wouldn't rest until she knew what had gone on, until she knew how and why her only son was killed.

  
  


The next day had brought her back again, along with a Police Officer. She stood on the doorstep almost in tears as Rob let her in.

  
  


I was scared, really scared. Not only of what people, what my four best friends, were going to think of me, but also scared of what would happen to me if I told them.

  
  


I ended up breaking down in Chester's arms, as Dave, Joe, Rob, the copper and Brad's mom sat around me, telling me to take my time, telling me things would be okay once I'd told them.

  
  


So I told them.

  
  


After wiping my tears away, keeping my eyes fixed to the ground, I told them  _everything_.

  
  


I started at the very beginning, told them all about my meeting with Crystal when I'd just started college. How I'd needed something to help me sleep, help me cope with things and a guy in my art class had told me about her.

  
  


I went on to tell them what had happened with her. How  _I'd_  slept with her, to feed my slight addiction.

  
  


Not looking up once, I told them about the money I'd ended up owing her, and her pimp, Gus.

  
  


Then came the hard bit.

  
  


I'll never forget the look on everyone's faces as I told them how Brad had offered to lend me the remainder of the money I owed.

  
  


I felt so empty, so worthless as I told them what had happened inside the warehouse, how Brad had been killed.

  
  


Tears had fallen from my eyes once again, by the time I'd finished and as I looked up, six pairs of eyes stared back at me, in total shock, but most of all, in disgust.

  
  


I knew what they were all thinking.

  
  


I should have died, not Brad.

  
  


The police officer stood up, telling me that I'd have to go down to the station to make a statement.

  
  


All the way there the cries of Brad's mother resounded in my head.

  
  
  


Three weeks ago, Darron was arrested. He, strangely, confessed everything, flipping after he was told that Brad had died and he was up for, not only ABH but also murder.

  
  


Even the strongest of people crack, I guess.

  
  


As for me, I've been ordered to do three months of 'community service', for possessing cannabis and cocaine. Needless to say, the principal at college decided it would be a good idea if I didn't bother going back.

  
  
  


So here I sit, outside in the garden, watching the white, fluffy clouds above me as they float over the sun. A cool, late June breeze brushes past me and I shiver a little as the sun dips behind the plump clouds.

  
  


I hear the front door slamming shut and look back through the kitchen window, spotting Chester as he throws his bag to the floor and makes his way through the kitchen, grabbing a can of drink from the fridge.

  
  


"You want a drink, Spike?" he calls.

  
  


I smile and tell him 'no' as he steps outside, taking a swig from his can of coke. For some reason he sometimes calls me Spike. It beats me, he said it's because I always have spiky hair or something.

  
  


"Jesus, it's hot," he sighs, flopping down on the grass next to me.

  
  


I smile and look across to him as he places his drink down and un buttons his blue shirt.

  
  


"Good day?" he asks me.

  
  


"So so," I smile, looking back up to the blue sky, "You?"

  
  


"Well I'm shattered but I got a lot of tips," he smiles, "Maybe working in a coffee shop has it's plus sides?"

  
  


"More than working in a stuffy burger bar," I chuckle.

  
  


"Maybe," he ponders, "Where are the others?"

  
  


"They're all doing shifts at the burger bar," I smile, glad that I skipped work today and am not forced to work inside the sauna-hot diner.

  
  


"I spoke to my Mom today."

  
  


"Yeah?" I ask, turning back to face him, "She being okay with you now?" I ask. Chester also got kicked out of college along with me, for failing to hand in work and attend on a regular basis. His mom flipped.

  
  


"Yeah, I think she's coming to terms with the fact that I'm a dropout," he sighs, taking a swig of his coke, "I'm twenty years old and I'm serving up cappuccinos and hot chocolates, what more could she want?" he chuckles, "Anyway, I'm glad the others aren't here. I haven't seen you much this past month or so," he sighs, "What with us forever working and you doing your gardening," he grins.

  
  


"It's not funny," I laugh.

  
  


My 'community service' involves not only being at home by seven each night, but also spending every other day with a group of 'Misguided Youth' planting trees and flowers around the town. No, I'm not joking. Talk about punishment, right?

  
  


"I know," he smiles, "I was only kidding."

  
  


I shake my head and let out a chuckle. Grabbing his drink from him, I take a swig of the cool substance.

  
  


"So, did you speak to your parents about getting kicked out of college?" Chester asks.

  
  


I almost spit my mouthful of drink out and cough a little as I manage to swallow it.

  
  


"Sorry---"

  
  


"No," I clear my throat, "I, I don't keep in touch with them anymore."

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


"Yeah," I sigh, realizing there's a hell of a lot Chester doesn't know about me.

  
  


These past couple of months really have faded away without me saying much to anyone, I guess.

  
  


"What happened?" he asks, "I don't mean to pry, I mean if you----"

  
  


"No, it's fine," I smile, "I've never met my real parents. They gave me up for adoption when I was a few months old. I didn't get on with the people who adopted me," I sigh.

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


"We used to fight a lot, well, we just didn't get on. I haven't spoken to them since I was eighteen, just before I started college."

  
  


"Don't you have any other family?"

  
  


"No," I sigh, "None whatsoever. Brad was the closest I had to family, really."

  
  


"Dude, I'm sorry," he sighs, gently patting me on the back, "You know you can turn to me, or the others, right? I mean, if you ever want to talk?"

  
  


I smile and nod my head, "I know," I sigh, it's just hard to actually  _say_  anything though.

  
  


"I'm gonna go in, I'm feeling a bit sleepy," I sigh, getting to my feet.

  
  


"Okay."

  
  


I smile and head over to the door, stopping as Chester begins to speak.

  
  


"Mike, are you okay?"

  
  


"What do you mean?" I ask, turning to face him.

  
  


"I mean," he sighs, getting up, "I haven't seen you much since, you know, since Brad's funeral. It's like the past two months, you've been avoiding me and the others."

  
  


"No," I smile weakly, "I haven't. I've just been busy, I guess," I nod, turning back into the kitchen, "I'll catch you later," I smile, heading inside.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


I am rudely awoken by the sound of LL Cool J's 'Get Down' blasting throughout the house. I sigh and roll onto my back, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I get to my feet and sleepily stumble to my bedroom door.

  
  


I have to smile as I open the door to see Joe dancing around the lounge, rapping along to the song.

  
  


I shake my head as I walk over to the kitchen table where Rob and Chester are sat, watching in amusement as Joe struts his stuff.

  
  


"Remind me again why we let him move in?" I ask as I sit down beside Chester.

Joe, along with Dave moved in last month, to help with the rent. Joe and I managed to make up somewhere along the line, now things are pretty much back to normal between us.

  
  


Chester smiles and shakes his head, "You feeling okay now?" he asks.

  
  


"Huh?"

  
  


"You looked a little peaky earlier on."

  
  


"Oh, I just needed to sleep," I sigh.

  
  


"You hungry?" Rob grins, "We ordered pizza. It should be here in a few."

  
  


"Sure," I grin, watching as the song comes to an end and Joe flops down on one of the battered couches as he tries to catch his breath.

  
  


The doorbell rings and Rob gets up, heading over to the door as Joe gets to his feet, plonking himself down beside me.

  
  


"Hey gorgeous," he grins at me, pulling me against him for a hug.

  
  


"Get off," I whine, squirming away from him as he messes his hand through my hair. I glare at him jokingly as Rob returns to the table with several boxes of pizza. Joe winks at me before grabbing one of the boxes and inspecting it to see what flavor it is.

  
  


I sigh and get up to grab a drink.

  
  


All of the guys, Joe especially, have been being really nice with me lately. Like Joe, just then, he always seems to be happy and joking around me, almost as if he is constantly trying to cheer me up. I sigh and open the fridge door, relishing in it's coolness as I grab four cans of coke. I can't help but feel bad though. It's like they're all trying so hard to cheer me up, it just doesn't seem to be working.

  
  


I make my way back to the table, passing everyone their drinks as I sit down and grab a slice of pizza.

  
  


I remember how pizza and Chinese takeaways used to be just about the only thing we ate, when Brad was around. None of us could cook, and Brad always seemed to be the one in charge of making sure we ate. I'm sure that the pizza delivery guy not only knows our favorite pizza toppings, but also our full names,

ages and shoe sizes.

  
  


I sigh, looking out of the kitchen window. It's nearly nine and it's just beginning to get dark, the sun fading down behind the city. I begin to wish that Brad could be here with us right now. He loved the summer, he was an outdoor kind of person, loved going for walks along the beach or in the woods nearby. Every summer would always, without fail, involve a water fight over at his house when we were kids. I remember how we'd always stay up late afterwards, eating his mom's homemade ice cream as we sat in their back garden. The only thing he hated about the summer, was the fact that he could never get a decent tan. He would get so annoyed, especially when my already tan skin would turn into a bronzy color. I loved winding him up about that so much.

  
  


Looking down at my skin now, I frown as I see how pale it is. I sigh and drop my pizza back into the box, pushing my chair back before I get up.

  
  


"You okay Mike?" Rob asks.

  
  


"I, I don't feel too good," I mutter, "Sorry," I sigh, turning away from them. I shakily make my way into my bedroom, closing the door softly behind me.

  
  


I head over to my bed, gently sitting down on the edge of it as I wrap my arms around myself.

  
  


A long, red gash on my left arm catches my eye and I sigh as I study the deep scars that I created all those weeks ago when I felt so low, so low that the only way I thought I could stop the pain was to cut myself, punish myself.

  
  


I run my finger over the thick, red lines, wincing slightly at the rough feel of them. I frown as I see just how many scars line the inside of my arm and pull down my sleeve. I look down at my hands, so pale, so bony and they shake as I hold them out in front of me.

  
  


My breath seems to catch in my throat as I let out a sigh and I cough a little, wincing at the pain in my chest. I can feel tears in my eyes but I won't let them fall. I flop back against my bed, pulling my knees up to my chest as I hear the door creak open.

  
  


It's Chester. He wears a worried expression upon his face as he gently clicks the door shut behind him, stopping for a minute before he walks over to me.

  
  


"You wanna talk?" he asks me, sitting down beside me.

  
  


I sigh and meekly shake my head, knowing that I need to talk, but too scared to do so.

  
  


"What is it, hey?" he asks, lying down beside me.

  
  


I shrug and close my eyes, trying to bite back a sob.

  
  


"Spike?"

  
  


I slowly open my eyes, jumping a little as I see Chester's face right beside mine.

  
  


"Please talk to me," he pleads.

  
  


I frown at him, looking into his eyes, remembering how he told me he knew what I was feeling. How he told me he used to hurt himself, how he tried to end his life too.

  
  


Only I don't know why.

  
  


He seems so happy now, always so cheerful. He got through whatever it was that hurt him so badly, so why can't I?

  
  


That's when it hits me.

  
  


_He got through it._

  
  


But how? How can anyone get over it, come out smelling of roses?

  
  


I blink back at him, my throat feeling dry as I go to speak.

  
  


"Why did you try to kill yourself Chester?" I suddenly ask him.

  
  


He stares back at me, eyes flickering between mine, pausing slightly before he answers, "If I tell you, will you promise to let me help you?"

  
  


"Chaz, I don't know if----"

  
  


"Spike?"

  
  


I stare back at him, numbly nodding my head.

  
  


He smiles weakly and brushes my tears away from my eyes, "Promise me," he whispers, "If I tell you, you've got to get help."

  
  


"I promise," I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.

  
  


I'm not sure if I can keep my promise though.


	9. Chapter 9

“Do you sometimes hate yourself, Mike?”

**  
  
**

I stare back at Chester, before glancing back up to the ceiling, “Not sometimes,” I reply, looking back to him, “All the time.”

**  
  
**

His face falters into a frown and he lets out a sigh.

**  
  
**

“I used to, too,” he whispers, gulping before he carries on, “I used to  _really_  despise myself,” he sighs, pain flashing in his eyes.

**  
  
**

“Really?” I ask, “You always seem so happy, so care free.”

**  
  
**

“Yeah,” he nods, “I am now, well most of the time,” he stops, “But when I tried to kill myself, I was beyond unhappy. I just wanted out,” he sighs, glancing across at me, “Like it would be the end to all of my problems only....”

**  
  
**

“You’re glad that you’re still here?”

**  
  
**

“Yeah,” he nods, “Just what I was going to say,” he smiles softly, “Sometimes I have to pinch myself, ask if I’m really here, if I’m really okay? And then I realize that things have turned around and I just feel so relieved, yet so scared, that if luck hadn’t been on my side then I wouldn’t be here right now.”

**  
  
**

I watch as he closes his eyes, nervously fiddling with his hands as he opens them, his gaze meeting mine once again.

**  
  
**

“Why’d you do it?” I whisper.

**  
  
**

He lets out a sigh, “Because I just wanted things to end. I honestly didn’t want to go on a day longer, living in my shoes.”

**  
  
**

“What happened?”

**  
  
**

He sighs and clears his throat, “I’ve never told anyone before, so I’m sorry if it’s difficult to understand.

**  
  
**

I smile softly at him, letting him know that it’s okay, that I’ll try my best to understand.

**  
  
**

“I don’t quite know when it all started, but when I was about thirteen, I just really started to resent myself,” Chester starts, glancing across at me before he continues, “I think I felt unwanted at first. I was lonely as a child, my mom and dad divorced when I was born and I always seemed to think that it was somehow all my fault.”

**  
  
**

“But why?”

**  
  
**

“I have an older brother, Dexter. He had been an only child for ten years of his life and then I came along. I guess, looking back, that he felt kind of neglected, jealous. He used to make me feel bad for being born. From the day I could speak he’d tell me that it was my fault our parents had divorced. He said that I wasn’t planned and that my Father didn’t want another kid, that’s why he’d left.”

**  
  
**

“That’s awful.”

**  
  
**

“Yeah,” he sighs, “But I really took it to heart, I really believed what he’d told me was the truth. He really made me feel so bad. I was a child, and I wanted to die. He’d tell me that things would be better if I’d run away. So I did.”

**  
  
**

“You-- you ran away?”

**  
  
**

“Yes,” he nods, “I was six years old and scared to death of my sixteen year old brother. I was sick of him picking on me and hurting me. I thought that if I went, things would be okay. He’d get his parents back together and he’d be happy again. I remember that night like it was yesterday. I got home from school, raced to my room and packed a small red backpack with clothes and food. Then I left. I just walked down the stairs and out of the door.”

**  
  
**

I stare at him for a few moments as I notice a tear in the corner of his eye.

**  
  
**

He lets out a sigh and carries on though, “I spent three nights on the streets, sleeping in shop doorways, trying to keep out of everyone’s sight. I was cold, tired and hungry and most of all I missed my teddy bear,” he chuckles, bringing a smile to my face, “On the fourth day I woke up in hospital. My mom, dad and Dexter were beside me. He’d told them everything. He was grounded for about six months and from then on, things at home were good. Our parents never got back together, but things felt better,” he nods.

**  
  
**

“So what went wrong?” I ask him, wishing I had the guts to spill everything out like this. It seems so easy, though it is far from that.

**  
  
**

“I don’t know,” he sighs, “I still felt bad about my parents breaking up. No matter how many times my brother told me that he’d not meant it, that it wasn’t true, I just couldn’t help but feel like It was all true. I completely stopped trusting people when I hit my teens. I don’t know why,” he sighs again, “I started to feel different. I didn’t have any friends and I just started to feel isolated, like I was far away from everyone else. I became a recluse, I’d go to school and come home, without speaking a word to anyone. Day after day,” he pauses, “That’s when I started to cut myself,” he sighs.

**  
  
**

I flinch at the thought and look across to him, waiting for him to continue.

**  
  
**

“I don’t know why but it seemed like the answer to all my problems. It was like whenever I felt low, I’d just cut myself, almost as if it, in some weird way, made me feel better, only in the long run, it didn’t. I remember my brother barging into my room once night when I was doing it. I begged him not to tell, swore to him that it would never happen again, only I lied,” he stops, rolling onto his stomach as I lie back down again, watching him as he carries on.

**  
  
**

“You can barely see the scars anymore, thank God,” he sighs, his eyes scanning his arms. I roll onto my stomach and reach out to his right arm, gently tracing my fingers along it, noticing, for the first time that is is covered in thin, silky, white lines.

**  
  
**

“I got worse after my brother found out. I went completely paranoid, worrying every second that he was going to tell my mom, but he kept it to himself, only because I begged him so much not to tell. But one day, things went too far. I’d had such a bad month, everything from my mom nagging at me, to getting bullied at school just made me flip out. I hadn’t slept properly for over a month, hardly eaten and not barely bothered going to school. I had an argument with one of my teachers, they yelled at me and told me I was a waste of space. And that was it,” he pauses, looking up at me, “I went home that night and grabbed a bottle of pills from the bathroom. I didn’t even look to see what they were. I slit my wrists,” he sighs, turning his arms so that the insides are showing.

**  
  
**

I stop and stare as I see two long, thick lines, one on each wrist, normally covered by his watch or bracelets.

**  
  
**

“Then I took the pills. The entire bottle. I just wanted to die. I was beyond depressed. I didn’t feel the need to live any longer.”

**  
  
**

I stare back at him, my mouth dry as the words leave his lips. This is so unreal, so close to the way I feel.....

**  
  
**

“I woke up a week later after having been in a coma. I was sectioned and sent to a Mental Institution.”

**  
  
**

“You--- were?”

**  
  
**

He slowly nods his head, “I hated my mom so much for sending me, I really, really resented her. But after time, things got better. I began to talk, and began to see that I wanted to live. Four months later, they let me back home.”

**  
  
**

“Woah, I--- I don’t---”

**  
  
**

He smiles back at me, “That was back when I was seventeen. I still have to go and see a shrink every month, but I got through it Spike,” he sighs, rolling onto his side, to face me, “I guess what I’m saying is, well, you don’t have to go through this Mike. No one should have to feel this way. I used to think that in some way, I deserved this pain, that I had done wrong and was being rightfully punished. I was wrong, though and once I saw that, things got better,” he sighs.

**  
  
**

“It’s not that easy, though,” I sigh.

**  
  
**

“You think I don’t know that?”

**  
  
**

“Sorry,” I frown, “Do you, do you ever still feel depressed?” I ask him.

**  
  
**

“Yeah,” he nods, “Some days I feel like I don’t want to get out of bed and face the day. Sometimes I just feel like crying like a pre-menstrual girl, but I get through it,” he smiles.

**  
  
**

“How, though? How can you make it go away?”

**  
  
**

“By talking,” he simply tells me, “By letting others listen.”

**  
  
**

I sigh and look away as he finishes, an empty feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. I feel so sad, so sad that he was reduced to cutting himself, that he felt so low that he didn’t even want to live.

**  
  
**

“Do you feel so worthless that you don’t even think you deserve to feel happy?” he asks.

**  
  
**

I sigh and slowly nod my head.

**  
  
**

“Why?”

**  
  
**

I shrug my shoulders, wanting to tell him so badly.

**  
  
**

Only I can’t.

**  
  
**

I’m just too scared to let him see the real me. Too scared to let him know the thoughts that haunt my mind from day to day.

**  
  
**

I sigh and push myself up off my bed, getting to my feet.

**  
  
**

“I’m sorry about what happened to you Chester,” I sigh, looking away from him.

**  
  
**

“Mike?” he asks, sitting up behind me.

**  
  
**

I turn around, facing him as he gets to his feet.

**  
  
**

“But?” he asks, looking down to his hands, “I can tell there’s a but coming----”

**  
  
**

“You can’t help me Chester,” I sigh, grabbing my sneakers from underneath my bed.

**  
  
**

“How do you know, hey? How can you know, when you won’t even let anyone try and help you----”

**  
  
**

I sigh and push my feet into my shoes, running a hand through my hair, “I’m not worth it, okay? Just forget it,” I sigh, turning towards the door.

**  
  
**

“Mike. Don’t you even say that----”

**  
  
**

“I just did,” I tell him, opening the door.

**  
  
**

I step out into the lounge, glancing across at Rob and Joe as they sit round the table, finishing off their pizza.

**  
  
**

Sighing I turn away and head towards the front door, that numb, despairing feeling slowly returning to my veins.

**  
  
**

“Where are you going?”

**  
  
**

Chester’s voice stops me as I reach the door, my hand on the handle as I slowly pull it open, “Out,” I reply.

**  
  
**

“But you can’t. You’re not allowed, you’ve got to stick to your curfew - if you get caught by the cops then they can---”

**  
  
**

“They can shove it,” I hiss, stepping out into the cool night.

**  
  
**

I don’t give Chester a chance to respond as I slam the door shut and race down

the concrete steps, my head throbbing as I run down the street.

**  
  
**

I can hear Chester yelling after me as I turn the corner, but I don’t stop and turn back, I just keep on walking.

**  
  
**

Walking away from him.

**  
  
**

_Away_  from him.

**  
  
**

I feel tears in my eyes as I realize something.

**  
  
**

I nearly told him, I so very nearly told him  _everything_.

**  
  
**

What had I been thinking?

**  
  
**

For one split second he’d had me. I’d been vulnerable and stupid. How could I have nearly let him know?

**  
  
  
  
**

\----------

**  
  
  
  
  
**

I end up at some bar, slumped in a booth with a line of empty beer bottles in front of me. Some guy sits down next to me, saying that I look like I could do with a fix.

**  
  
**

I simply nod and find myself being led out of the club and down a dark alleyway nearby.

**  
  
**

Sirens can be heard in the distance and the music from the club dances around in my ears as I follow the man down the dimly lit pathway, stumbling every so often, my vision blurring as I try to focus on where I’m going.

**  
  
**

He eventually stops walking and pushes an old door open, holding it for me as I follow him into, what looks like a public bathroom.

**  
  
**

He flicks on a light and I blink a few minutes, looking around at my surroundings. Three disused toilet stalls stand before me, a row of broken sinks to my right.

**  
  
**

He smiles at me and holds out his hand.

**  
  
**

I stare back at him for a second, wondering what he means.

**  
  
**

“You didn’t think you were going to score for free, did you?”

**  
  
**

I blink back at him, my mind trying to register his words.

**  
  
**

“Oh,” I nod, hand digging into my back pocket. I frown as I feel that it is empty and try my other pocket. Empty too.

**  
  
**

“I, I must have spent it all back in there,” I sigh, frowning at the sound of my own voice. It’s slightly slurred, my breathing irregular, my chest feels tight.

**  
  
**

I slowly look up at the guy, my eyes trying to focus on him. He must be at least thirty, with dark brown hair, tied back in a pony tail. His eyes are a rich brown colour, his smile sparkles back at me.

**  
  
**

“Come on,” he whispers, grabbing my hand.

**  
  
**

I frown as he pulls me into one of the cubicles. Slamming the door shut, he leans back against it as he pushes me down to my knees.

**  
  
**

I slowly look back up at him, my head throbbing, mind filling with confusement.

**  
  
**

He swiftly unbuttons his pants and reaches into them, gently stroking himself. I let out a squeak as he moves his erection to my face, placing his hands on the back of my head as he pulls me closer.

**  
  
**

“Seems as you don’t have the money, I guess this will have to do?” his voice is raspy and his hands dig into my head, tugging at my hair as I take a deep breath.

**  
  
**

I’m not even aware of what I’m doing as I slowly take him into my mouth, gently trailing my tongue along his shaft, my hands coming to rest on his hips as I take more of him into my mouth.

**  
  
**

“Sweet---”

**  
  
**

His moans resound in my head as I bob my head up and down his length, slowly sucking, my hands moving across to his stomach, fingers delicately tracing down the warm skin underneath his shirt.

**  
  
**

“Fuck---”

**  
  
**

I feel his fingers tightening their grip of my hair, his hands pulling my head further against him, pushing himself further inside me.

**  
  
**

“Oh God----”

**  
  
**

I almost choke as he spills his hot seed into my mouth, his body shaking as I slowly pull away, forcing myself to swallow the vile tasting liquid.

**  
  
**

I feel myself being pulled to my feet, an arm wrapping around my waist as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

**  
  
**

“I can tell you’ve done that before,” he whispers in my ear and I feel something being shoved into my right hand, “The name’s Jake, by the way. I’m around here every night but Sunday,” he smiles, pulling away.

**  
  
**

And with that, he is gone.

**  
  
**

The shock of what I have done, only just hitting me.

**  
  
**

I slide down against the wall, my heart pounding as I open up my hand. A tiny of white powder stares back at me and I feel a smile tugging against my lips as I shove it into my pocket.

**  
  
  
  
**

\----------

**  
  
  
  
**

“Where the hell have you been?”

**  
  
**

“We’ve been worried sick about you.”

**  
  
**

“Do you even know what time it is?”

**  
  
**

“Why did you go off like that?”

**  
  
**

I stare back at the four faces surrounding me as I gently shut the front door.

**  
  
**

“Well?” Joe sighs, stepping closer to me, “Mike are you drunk?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

**  
  
**

“Nuh-uh,” I smile, blinking back at my four house mates.

**  
  
**

“Yes you are,” he states, “It’s two thirty in the morning and you’re drunk as hell. You’re not even supposed to be out,” he snaps, grabbing me by the arm.

**  
  
**

I scowl at him and push him away, trying to move past Rob and Chester towards my room. Only they stand in the way, Rob staring into my eyes, “You’re high, aren’t you?” he accuses, “You’ve been out getting fucking high again, haven’t you?” he hisses, “Don’t you ever----”

**  
  
**

“Rob, leave it.”

**  
  
**

I look up as Chester interrupts him.

**  
  
**

“You should get to bed,” he sighs, gently taking me by the arm, “You lot go back to sleep, I’ve got him,” Chester tells the others as he leads me over to our room.

**  
  
**

I vaguely hear them muttering ‘good night’ as Chester shuts the bedroom door closed behind me, gently pushing me towards my bed.

**  
  
**

I turn to face him, my high beginning to wear off, my mood being replaced with a more somber feeling.

**  
  
**

“Come on,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes, “Get out of your clothes.”

**  
  
**

I stare back at him, trying to recall what he just this minute told me, but to no avail.

**  
  
**

“Mike,” he sighs, “Oh God,” he shakes his head.

**  
  
**

He lets out yet another sigh and bends down in front of me, tugging the laces on my sneakers. He pulls them off, then stands up once again, pulling my black hoody up and over my head.

**  
  
**

I begin to feel dizzier and dizzier, trying to focus on him but my attempts are futile.

**  
  
**

“Mike?”

**  
  
**

“Hmm?”

**  
  
**

“Mike, open your eyes a minute.”

**  
  
**

I slowly open them, not having realized they’d shut, “I’m tired,” I whisper, feeling his hands at the waist band of my trousers, “What are you doing?” I frown, looking down at his hands, then back up to his face.

**  
  
**

“If you sleep in these you’ll get hot,” he sighs, quickly pulling them down to my ankles.

**  
  
**

I shakily step out of them and shiver as the cool air hits me.

**  
  
**

“I’m cold now,” I whisper, blinking back at him.

**  
  
**

He sighs and pushes me down against my bed, my eyes starting to shut as soon as my head hits the soft, plump pillow.

**  
  
**

I shift a little, rolling onto my side, half watching Chester as he folds my jeans in half, placing them over the back of the chair that stands by my bed.

I pull the covers up over me, snuggling underneath them, relishing in the warmth of my bed.

**  
  
**

“Mike?”

**  
  
**

“Mmm?” I sigh, looking up at Chester.

**  
  
**

He stands before me, a confused look upon his face, “What the hell is this?” he spits, thrusting something before my eyes.

**  
  
**

I blink several times, letting my eyes focus on the object in his hands.

**  
  
**

I gulp as it comes into my vision.

**  
  
**

One tiny plastic bag of cocaine.

**  
  
**

“Please tell me this isn’t yours----”

**  
  
**

“Give it back,” I snap.

**  
  
**

“Mike! You swore you weren’t doing this stuff anymore, remember? After you were questioned by the police, you promised that you didn’t have a problem, you promised us Mike----”

**  
  
**

I stare back at him, anger boiling up inside me.

**  
  
**

“What the  _hell_  does it have to do with you, huh?” I spit.

**  
  
**

“Mike, I’m concerned about you, we all are.”

**  
  
**

“Why?”

**  
  
**

“Because you’re acting crazy,” he hisses, “You’re going off the rails----”

**  
  
**

“My best friend died for God’s sake. You expect me to be all song and dance about it?”

**  
  
**

“No.”

**  
  
**

“Well what then?”

**  
  
**

“We want you to let us help you.”

**  
  
**

“Why? What’s in it for you?”

**  
  
**

“There’s nothing in it for me, I like you, you’re my friend, and I want to help you. Is that so bad?”

**  
  
**

“I don’t need your help.”

**  
  
**

“Fuck,” he hisses, “I’m your friend, I’m fucking worried about you.”

**  
  
**

“Well don’t,” I spit, grabbing the tiny bag from his clutch, “I don’t want you to worry about me----”

**  
  
**

“But I do----”

**  
  
**

“Well STOP,” I yell, “STOP worrying about me and leave me the FUCK alone, got it? I don’t want to know, I do  _not_  need your help. Do you understand? Leave. Me. Alone.”

**  
  
**

He stares back at me, a tear slowly slipping down his cheek as he backs away from me.

**  
  
**

I roll over onto my stomach, turning my head away from him. I hear his bed creaking as he slides in it, then the room plummets into darkness as the lamp is softly clicked off.

**  
  
**

I reach over to the set of drawers beside me and slide the top one open, shoving the tiny bag inside it before I settle back down under the covers, slowly drifting off to sleep.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Time gradually begins to blur when you have no real purpose in life. Days, hours, minutes, seconds all become one. You barely feel anything as time silently passes you by, you barely even notice that it's almost another year of your life, slipping away. Another year of your life, so eventful, yet so wasted away.

  
  


Because what, exactly, have I achieved? I've attempted, and failed suicide twice. I've managed to let my lies and stupidity kill my best friend. Isn't now the point when I start to make a change, to finally let someone in and help me?

  
  


No.

  
  


No, because I can't let anyone know what I'm really like, what I've really been through. I can't let anyone get to me, because that's what they'll do. They'll get tangled up in my mis-fortunes and when I finally think that things are going to work out, something bad will happen, just like with Brad. I can't let anyone in.

  
  


Can't let anyone see the real me.

  
  


"Mike."

  
  


I jump and slowly open my eyes, the room seeming to spin around me as I try to focus on the figure beside me.

  
  


Chester.

  
  


"Mike."

  
  


I blink several times before I slowly sit up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I yawn.

  
  


"What time is it?" I ask, wincing at the hoarseness of my own voice.

  
  


"Eleven thirty. You told me to wake you up," he tells me curtly, "You've got work at twelve, remember?"

  
  


I nod and stare back at him, not used to the cold look in his eyes as he meets my gaze.

  
  


"If you get a move on I'll give you a lift in," he tells me in an expressionless tone, "I'm going out that way myself."

  
  


I nod, still staring back at him. He lets out an exasperated sigh and turns away.

  
  


"Did I do something to upset you Chaz?" I ask him before he has chance to reach the door.

  
  


Another sigh.

  
  


He turns and stares back at me coldly, arms crossed across his chest, "You don't even remember, do you?" he asks, his voice tinged with irritation.

  
  


I pause, staring back at him, "Remember what?" I ask him slowly.

  
  


He sighs, shaking his head, letting out a bitter laugh, "Last night."

  
  


I close my eyes briefly, trying in vain to remember what happened but to no avail. I sigh, opening my eyes again, Chester staring back at me, anger clear in his eyes. I don't remember a thing. I remember calling in sick at work, I remember falling asleep at about three in the afternoon. I vaguely recall arguing with Chester and then everything is a blur.

  
  


"Sorry," I mumble, my voice barely audible.

  
  


He shakes his head once more, backing toward the door, "No Mike. I'm sorry, sorry I ever met you, sorry I ever fucking tried to help you," he spits, practically pulling the door off it's hinges as he barges through it, slamming it hard behind him.

  
  


I sit in shock, staring at the door, my coat swinging violently from it's hook on the back of it.

  
  


Then everything seems to come rushing back to me.

  
  


Everything that happened last night seems to hit me like a blow to the stomach. I feel tears welling up in my eyes as I remember what I did, the things I said to Chester.

  
  


"I'm sorry too," I whisper, "Sorry I was ever fucking born."

  
  
  
  


\------------

  
  
  
  


"What time do you finish? I could pick you up if you like."

  
  


"No, it's fine, I'll walk."

  
  


Chester glances across at me as we slow down, reaching yet another set of traffic lights, "It's no problem...."

  
  


"I said I'll walk," I snap back at him, not even bothering to turn away from the window.

  
  


"Fine," he hisses as the lights turn green and we pull out onto the main road.

  
  


I sigh and lean my head against the cool window. I don't get Chester, I honestly don't. I mean, less then half an hour ago he was telling me how he wished he'd never even laid eyes on me and now, now he's driving me to work, trying to make idle conversation with me, trying to be nice I guess. It's just that I'm not used to people being plain nice to me, I always assume that people are only nice to me when they want something.

  
  


Even though deep down, I know that's not what Chester's about one bit, as he constantly reminds me, he's my friend and when I want to talk, he'll always be there for me.

  
  


So why the hell don't I just trust him?

  
  


If I had the answer to that question, I guess I wouldn't be sat here trying to figure it out, would I?

  
  


I sigh and glance across at him; wondering what the hell I did to deserve a good friend like him.

  
  


_There's nothing in it for me, I like you, you're my friend, and I want to help you. Is that so bad?_

  
  


"Here we are," Chester sighs, pulling up into the car park of Eric's Diner. He glances across at me as he turns the engine off, smiling slightly as I stare back at him.

  
  


What the hell did  _he_  do to deserve a  _friend_  like me? Whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad.

  
  


"Chester."

  
  


"Yeah?"

  
  


"I'm sorry."

  
  


He raises his eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak but I cut him off, flinging my arms around him.

  
  


"I'm sorry that I've been such an asshole," I tell him, relaxing a little as he wraps his arms around me, gently patting my back.

  
  


"Spike, I understand," he tells me as I pull away.

  
  


"Chaz, don't," I stop him, "No one understands. I'm a fuck up."

  
  


"Mike," he sighs, "When are you going to see, huh?"

  
  


"See what?"

  
  


He sighs and shakes his head, leaning back in his seat, "What time did you say you finish?"

  
  


"I didn't," I push the door open, "I'll catch you later," I mutter, clambering out of his car, "Thanks for the lift," I call as I head across the car park.

  
  


I don't look back until I reach the diner, glancing over my shoulder to see Chester is still sat in his car. He shakes his head at me before starting up the engine and swerving out onto the road, dust from the parking lot kicking up as he roars away.

  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  


I kick off my shoes, flopping down onto the battered couch with a heavy sigh. My eyes seem to automatically close and in a matter of seconds I find myself slowly drifting off to sleep, only to be woken by the sound of the front door slamming.

  
  


My eyes snap open and I look up to see a slightly pissed off looking Chester leaning back against the door.

  
  


I eye him up for a moment. He seems unaware of my presence as he lets out a sigh and throws his keys on the table, jumping as his eyes meet with me.

  
  


"Shit," he smiles, flopping down opposite me, "I didn't see you there. How long have you been back?"

  
  


I sigh and stretch a little before curling up, resting my head back down against a soft cushion, "Just got in," I tell him with a yawn, "You had a good day?" I ask him, my eyes closing, silently hoping that he doesn't question me about this mornings episode, or what happened last night.

  
  


"Not really. My hours at the coffee house are getting cut," he scowls, "I think I need to start looking for a new job."

  
  


"Eric could do with extra staff, I could put a word in for you if you like. It's not much fun, but it would keep you going," I offer, opening my eyes.

  
  


"Really? Thanks Mike, that'd be great," he nods.

  
  


"I'll tell him tomorrow," I smile, rubbing my head a little as I sit up, crossing my legs and leaning back against the soft couch.

  
  


"Hey, you okay?"

  
  


I glance across to Chester as he gets up and steps over to me.

  
  


"Just a headache," I sigh, "I've had it since I woke up."

  
  


"Lemme see," he says softly, sitting down beside me. I wince as he places his cool hand upon my head, It's like as much as I love being near him, in his company, I just wish that he'd leave me alone sometimes.... all because I'm afraid. Like when he holds me, I feel safe, I feel safe when he comforts me and talks to me and...

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I blink and turn back to Chester, "I'm so sorry," I tell him, "I'm really sorry for the things I said to you last night. I never meant them. I swear I never meant----"

  
  


His frown softens into a small smile and he shakes his head, "Mike, it's alright. You were drunk, out of it. I shouldn't have said what I did this morning, I didn't mean a word of it."

  
  


"No, it's not alright," I sigh, "It took you so much courage to tell me, didn't it?"

  
  


He slowly nods his head.

  
  


"And all I did was throw it back in your face."

  
  


"Spike---"

  
  


"No. You told me something that was so hard for you to say and I just acted like a complete asshole, didn't I? I shouldn't have stormed off like that, I'm really sorry Chaz."

  
  


He sighs and shifts a little, "It's okay," he smiles, "Forget it."

  
  


I fidget awkwardly with my fingers, an unwelcome silence settling between the two of us.

  
  


"You want a drink?" Chester suddenly asks, almost jumping up from the couch.

  
  


"Chaz," I sigh, grabbing his hand.

  
  


I wait for him as he slowly sits back down again, turning to face him.

  
  


"If you ever want to talk, about what happened," I tell him, "Don't hesitate, yeah?"

  
  


He smiles back at me, "Can't you see that's all I want to do for you as well?"

  
  


"Not just yet, hey?" I tell him, "I'm not ready."

  
  


He lets out a sigh and gently squeezes my hand, "I'll be waiting, you know. Just don't leave it too long. Okay?"

  
  


I smile and nod my head, Chester's soft hand leaving mine as he gets to his feet.

  
  


"Coffee or water?" he asks as he heads into the kitchen.


	11. Chapter 11

"Oh--- Oh God--- Shit Mikey---"

  
  


I close my eyes, burying the side of my face further against the cold tiled wall. My hands press down against the dirty concrete floor, stubby nails scraping and scratching at the cold surface.

  
  


"Oh God--- Holy--- I'm gonna--- Oh yes---"

  
  


I wince and close my eyes even tighter, blood slowly trickling from my lips as I bite down hard on the inside of my mouth.

  
  


"Fuck---"

  
  


I try not to scream as I feel warm liquid pouring inside of me, tears escaping my eyes as the weight on top of me is removed.

  
  


I feel myself being pulled to my feet and I shakily turn towards Jake, a smile upon his face as he fastens his pants.

  
  


"You are  _such_  a good fuck," he whispers, pulling me towards him.

  
  


His lips barely touch mine as he pulls my jeans up, fastening my belt buckle before he steps away, reaching into his back pocket.

  
  


"There you go Mikey," he smiles, placing a small bag in my hands.

  
  


I look down at the bag, filled with around ten joints.

  
  


"How's that for customer service?" he smiles, wiping his thumb across my tear stained cheek, "Ready rolled, oh and," he grins, "Laced with 'E'."

  
  


I simply nod and shove the package into my back pocket, straightening my hoody out as he opens the door.

  
  


"See you around," he grins.

  
  


I jump a little as his arms slip around my waist and his smooth lips press gently against mine, his velvet tongue briefly creeping inside my mouth before he pulls away.

  
  


"That's for being such a pleasure to deal with Mikey. You've made the past month very enjoyable," he whispers.

  
  


I smile back weakly at him before turning to the door. I pull my cap on, hiding my dark eyes beneath it as I race up the derelict alleyway and onto the main street.

  
  


The July sun beats down on me, but I don't feel a thing, I don't feel it's warmth.

  
  
  
  


\-----------

  
  
  
  


I fall back against the comfy mattress of my bed, eyes closing as a sense of calm slowly begins to flow through my body.

  
  


A few seconds later the sound of the front door slamming brings me back to reality and I open my eyes as the sounds of voices fill the house.

  
  


I reach over to my night stand and place the pipe down, rubbing my hands across my face as I sit up a little.

  
  


The bedroom door swings open and Chester steps in, stepping over to the window, "Hey," he smiles, dropping his bag to the floor before he pulls the curtains open.

  
  


"Hey," I smile, squinting as the bright sunlight hits my eyes.

  
  


"Good day?" he asks, opening the window.

  
  


"I guess, you?"

  
  


"Hmm, so-so," he nods, "I've got some bad news though," he sighs, sitting himself down on the edge of my bed.

  
  


"Oh? What happened?" I ask, sitting up and pulling my knees to my chest.

  
  


He looks at me for a few seconds, chewing on his bottom lip as he runs a hand through his spiked hair, "You've been fired."

  
  


I stare back at him for a minute or so, my mind trying to process what he has just told me.

  
  


"S--Sorry?"

  
  


"You've been fired," he repeats, staring me dead in the eye.

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


"Dude I'm sorry," he sighs, "I feel so bad. I mean you got me the job at Eric's and now you've lost your job - I'll help you find an---"

  
  


"Why'd he fire me?" I ask.

  
  


He smiles a little, "You really need to ask?"

  
  


"Why?"

  
  


"Mike, you've hardly been there the past month. Ever since I've been working there I've covered at least three of your shifts every week. Eric was getting a little tired of it."

  
  


I sigh and look down to the palms of my hands, fiddling awkwardly with my grubby fingernails.

  
  


I should've seen it coming, really. Chester's right. I've hardly bothered going into work over the past month. Excuses have started to run out though - and now I've paid the price - I've lost my job.

  
  


All because I can't be bothered.

  
  


Yeah, I'll be honest, shall I?

  
  


I'm a lazy, good for nothing lay about.

  
  


I can't even be bothered to get out of bed in the mornings and go and earn an honest wage.

  
  


Instead I've wasted away the past month, trying to block out the pain, runaway from my problems the only way I know how.

  
  


It's got to the point where I've been visiting Jake practically everyday. Letting him have his way with me - letting him violate me in every sense of the word - and what for?

  
  


All for a lousy bag of weed, some cut price cigarettes or a bottle of vodka. Anything that will let me get so intoxicated, so out of my mind that I don't have to think about my problems, my meager existence.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I slowly look up to Chester, "What?" I sigh.

  
  


"I'm sorry," he sighs, "Sorry you lost your job. Look, I'm free tomorrow, why don't we go into town and ask in some shops and bars or something? I'm sure you'll be able to find something else, no problem," he nods, giving me a smile.

  
  


"Thanks," I smile half-heartedly, watching Chester as he gets up and heads over to his bed, flopping down on his stomach.

  
  


"Are you okay?" I ask, frowning as he buries his head into his pillow.

  
  


I hear a muffled 'no' and get to my feet, padding across the soft carpet to his bedside.

  
  


"What's wrong?" I ask, kneeling down on the floor.

  
  


He slowly turns on his side, facing me.

  
  


"I feel like crap," he states.

  
  


"Why?"

  
  


"Why?" he asks, "I got shouted at four times today by stuck up customers, I burnt my arm on the griddle, I have a killer headache and I'm sounding like an over-emotional teenage girl," he sighs.

  
  


I smile, "No more than usual."

  
  


"Hey," he pouts.

  
  


"Let me see your arm," I tell him, reaching out for it.

  
  


He rolls his shirt sleeve up to reveal a white dressing patch on the inside of his arm. I shudder, a vision of my once bandaged arm immediately flashing through my mind.

  
  


"Does it hurt?" I ask, finally tearing my eyes away from it.

  
  


"I'll live," he sighs.

  
  


"Here," I smile going back over to my bunk. I grab the pipe and lighter and take them over to Chester, "Smoke?" I ask him.

  
  


He nods his head and sits up a little.

  
  


"Hey,"

  
  


I look up as Chester flicks the lighter on and see Joe at the door.

  
  


"Mike, did, er---"

  
  


"Yeah," I nod, "He told me," I sigh, looking back to Chester as he takes a drag and leans back against his bed, smoke rolling off his lips.

  
  


"Are you okay?" Joe sighs.

  
  


"Yeah, I have no job, why wouldn't I be?"

  
  


"No, I didn't mean that. It's just, you've been distant lately," he sighs, "Don't hesitate, if you ever want to talk."

  
  


I smile and nod as he turns away.

  
  


How can he help, huh? What can anyone do to fix this mess?

  
  


Nothing.

  
  


I'm not worth their time, their patience.

  
  


"Mike."

  
  


I look up again as Joe stops on the doorway, a frown upon his face.

  
  


"What?"

  
  


He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

  
  


"Joe? What did you want to say?"

  
  


He glances across at Chester, then back to me.

  
  


"What?"

  
  


"Mike, we're really worried about you. You spend everyday getting high, getting drunk. You've changed Mike, and it's not for the best. You really need help bro, you're spiraling out of control."

  
  


I glance across at Chester, anger building inside me.

  
  


"You've all been talking about me, haven't you?"

  
  


"Mike, we're concerned----"

  
  


"You've been talking about me behind my back, haven't you?" I spit, "Well? What have you been saying, huh? Been having a bitching session? Been talking about what a fuck up I am?"

  
  


"Mike we're just worried, why can't you see that?"

  
  


I get to my feet, glaring at Joe as I shove past him. He grabs my arm before I can make it out of the room.

  
  


"Listen," he hisses, narrowing his eyes at me.

  
  


"Will you just let go?" I spit, trying to pull out of his grip.

  
  


"We're getting tired of this. We just want to help, okay? I've said this before and I'll tell you again. Pretty soon, we're going to get fed up of you, we're going to get fed up being repeatedly pushed away everytime we try to help you. So why don't you do us all a favor and let us help?"

  
  


"You can't," I whisper, shoving him away.

  
  


"How do you know?"

  
  


I choose to ignore him and storm through the kitchen, escaping outside as he shouts back at me.

  
  


"You're not just hurting yourself you know. You're hurting us too."

  
  


I spin around as the words leave his mouth, tears threatening to spill from my eyes, "You think I don't know that, hey? You think that doesn't make me feel ten times worse?" I yell.

  
  


"Mike, calm down will you?"

  
  


I stare back at them, my heart pounding, fists clenching in anger.

  
  


"I don't want to be like this, y'know," I almost whisper, "I hate everyday that I'm alive. I really do. I'm sorry that I'm upsetting you, okay? I'll just try and pretend to be a little more cheerful when I'm around you, okay?"

  
  


"Mike," Chester sighs, walking over to me, "We don't want you to pretend. We want to help you, we want you to be happy," he stops, frowning at me, "Mike?"

  
  


I stare back at him, feeling slightly dizzy as my knees suddenly buckle beneath me.

  
  


Chester somehow catches me and in a matter of seconds I'm laid across the couch, Joe pressing a cool cloth to my forehead, saying something to me.

  
  


Only I don't hear as I begin to drift off to sleep.

  
  


I'm tired, so tired.

  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"What?" I hiss, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I slowly sit up.

  
  


"Wake up."

  
  


"I am awake now," I growl, "Thanks to you. I was trying to sleep, you know. What do you want anyway?"

  
  


"I wanted to see you."

  
  


"Well, here I am."

  
  


"No, I can't see you, it's dark. Turn on the light."

  
  


I let out a sigh and scramble out of my bed, stumbling over to the door. I flick the switch on and turn around, a smile creeping across my face as I see Brad sat on my bed.

  
  


"Oh it's you," I grin, making my way back over to him.

  
  


"Gee thanks," he sticks his tongue out as I sit down beside him.

  
  


"No I thought it was Joe or someone being a pain."

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


Silence.

  
  


"I miss you Brad," I sigh, turning to face him.

  
  


He lets out a chuckle and quickly grabs my hand, "What do you mean?" he laughs,

"I'm here."

  
  


"Yeah you're here now, but----"

  
  


"No," he smiles, "I'm always here."

  
  


I stare back at him and frown as tears begin to slide down his cheeks.

  
  


"Brad?" I whisper, reaching my hand up to wipe his tears away. I jump and blink as my hand touches nothing.

  
  


He is no longer there.

  
  


I quickly glance around my room in confusement, my breath catching, "Brad?" I call, "Brad?"

  
  


Silence.

  
  


"Brad?" my voice is anxious, heart pounding as I look around the room, "Brad, please---"

  
  


"Mike."

  
  


"Brad? Brad is that you?"

  
  


"Mike, wake up----"

  
  


I jump up, my eyes shooting open, a pain in my chest as I glance around.

  
  


Joe and Chester stare back at me, shock upon their faces.

  
  


"Where is he?" I whisper, trying to sit up. The blankets that are draped over me tangle in my feet and I fall from the couch, landing in a heap on the lounge floor, "He was there," I wail, as I feel myself being pulled to my feet, pushed back down onto the couch, "He was in my room. Please let me go and see him, tell him I'm sorry, please----"

  
  


"Mike."

  
  


I stop as Chester's calm voice cuts in.

  
  


"It was just a nightmare," he tells me, placing a hand upon my forehead.

  
  


I shiver a little as the covers are wrapped around me, a pillow placed behind my pounding head.

  
  


"You try and get some rest," Chester whispers, running a hand through my hair. I blink back at him, feeling sleep tug at my eyes.

  
  


"He's getting worse," Joe's voice whispers.

  
  


"I know but what are we supposed to do?"

  
  


"I don't know."

  
  


"Neither do I anymore. I'm running out of ideas."


	12. Chapter 12

The hot summer sun beats down on me, and I look up to the sky above, letting out an exasperated sigh. Not one single cloud in sight. Any other time I'd be thinking how beautiful the sky looked. A pure, deep blue colour, stretching out for miles, filled only with the odd bird flying high above me.

  
  


And here I am, planting trees in the thick, August heat. People might think I got off lightly - no sentence for possession, after all it was my first offense. But right now, I think I'd much rather be locked up, than out here, gasping for a drink of water and five minutes to just sit down.

  
  


"Put your back into it Shinoda, you're digging like a girl."

  
  


I sigh and shove the spade hard into the ground, stopping for a minute as I take a breath.

  
  


"What are you? Man or a mouse?"

  
  


I curse under my breath as the smart ass officer in charge of us creeps up behind

me, muttering obscenities as he inspects my work.

  
  


I guess I should look on the bright side of things. Only about a week left of doing this before it's over. Then I'll be free. No longer having to spend afternoons with the rest of the city's juvenile delinquents, no more shoveling soil into pots and no more curfews to stick to.

  
  


"Right, take a break you lot. Back to work in ten minutes."

  
  


I let out a sigh and shove my spade into the soil, peeling off my black T-shirt as I head over to a bench, digging out my phone from my back pocket.

  
  


I watch as the officer sits down on a low wall, his back to me as I hit the phone book, scrolling down through the names.

  
  


_Jake._

  
  


I stare at his name for a second, glancing up as I quickly press 'dial'. I place the small phone to my ear, listening as the ringing tone kicks in.

  
  


"Hey."

  
  


"Jake," I sigh, "It's Mike."

  
  


"Ah, Mikey. Hold on a minute."

  
  


I sigh, keeping my eyes on the officer's back as I wait for Jake.

  
  


"Hey, sorry about that. What's up?"

  
  


I sigh, rubbing the sweat away from my forehead with my T-shirt, "I need to score," I whisper, leaning back against the wooden bench, squinting a little as the sun catches my eyes.

  
  


"Thought as much," he chuckles, "I'm afraid I can't help you out. I'm out of town, won't be back for another week."

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


"Hold up though. One of my colleagues will be about," he tells me.

  
  


"Yeah?" I ask.

  
  


"His name's Eddie."

  
  


"Eddie."

  
  


"Yeah, he'll be in the club, just ask for him, okay? Tell him you're a friend of mine," he laughs.

  
  


"Sure," I sigh.

  
  


"But listen, he'll only take money. He's not into any of this rent boy shit, right?"

  
  


"Rent boy?" I ask, bemused.

  
  


"Yeah, you---"

  
  


"Me?" I laugh.

  
  


"Well, I assumed that's what you were - you know, giving me a good time for a score in return, rather than money - I assume that's what your other clients pay you with?"

  
  


I almost drop my phone, the colour draining from my face.

  
  


"Hey? You there?"

  
  


"Y--Yeah. Eddie?"

  
  


"Yeah."

  
  


"Thanks."

  
  


"Okay. That all?

  
  


"Yeah."

  
  


"Bye then."

  
  


"Yeah. Bye."

  
  


I frown as I hit the 'end' button, my fingers shaking as I shove the phone back into my pocket.

  
  


I sigh and bury my head in my hands, closing my eyes as the sun beats down on my bare back.

  
  


_Rent boy._

  
  


I feel my hands shaking as I rake my fingers through my thick, black hair. I let out

a shaky sigh, gulping as I realize just what I've been doing - all over again.

  
  


Ever since I met him, I've been letting Jake fuck me, I've been giving him hand jobs, blow jobs all in return for cocaine, for weed, for anything he's got on him.

  
  


I feel sick.

  
  


I feel so disgusting.

  
  


I didn't even know, I didn't even  _think_  about what I've been doing.

  
  


I'm letting him use me, letting him treat me like some sex toy - just the way Crystal did.

  
  


What has happened to me? What have I become?

  
  


"Get your asses back to work."

  
  


I sigh, forcing back my tears as I get to my feet, tucking my t-shirt into my back pocket.

  
  


I feel so disgusting.

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  
  


I wish I could wash everything away.

  
  


Wash all the pain, the mistakes, the hurt, the regret, wash it all away.

  
  


But life's not that simple, is it?

  
  


So here I stand under the shower, trying to wash away the dirt and grime from my body, wishing the same method could be used to wash everything away from my mind, my soul.

  
  


I've been stood underneath this scolding hot water for way too long now, I know I have.

  
  


Only I can't seem to move.

  
  


I keep thinking about what Jake said.

  
  


The words he spoke are spinning round and round in my mind, repeating themselves over and over again until I feel like screaming, feel like punching the wall, letting all my anger out.

  
  


_Rent boy._

  
  


_Rent boy._

  
  


_Rent boy._

  
  


Only I'm not angry with him. I'm not angry with Jake for saying those words.

  
  


No.

  
  


I'm angry with myself, angry at just how low I've sunk and angry at the fact that part of me doesn't really care.

  
  


Part of me couldn't give a fuck.

  
  


"Hey, you nearly finished in there Mike?"

  
  


I jump as Chester's voice calls through the door and I shakily turn the taps off, calling to him that I'll just be a minute.

  
  


I climb out of the shower cubicle, fighting against the steam as I grab a towel from the shelf. I quickly dry and pull on some clean boxers and pants before I open the door, allowing some air to flow into the sauna like space.

  
  


I wipe away the steam that has collected on the mirror and stare back at my reflection. I'm not as pale as I'd become, my skin is a slightly bronzed colour and I've built up some muscles in my upper arms; probably from all the digging.

  
  


I run my hand over my stomach, frowning as my fingers trace across my hip bones, they seem to stick out more than ever. I seem to have lost even more weight. I glance up to my face, running my fingers along my cheek bones - I never realized I was so bony - so skinny.

  
  


"Shit. How did you get those bruises?"

  
  


I jump and turn to see Chester standing in the doorway to the bathroom, a frown upon his face.

  
  


"Sorry?" I ask him.

  
  


"Those bruises on your back - how'd you get them?"

  
  


"Huh?" I frown, turning sideways to look in the mirror. I sigh as I see several black marks on my shoulders and back.

  
  


_Jake._

  
  


I shiver and bend down to pull on my clean T-shirt, chucking the wet towel into the laundry basket.

  
  


"Must have done them this afternoon," I lie, "It's hard work planting trees you know," I joke, "How was your day?" I ask, walking past him into our room, as I swiftly change the subject.

  
  


"So so," he nods, "Yours?"

  
  


"Okay," I answer, pulling a comb through my wet hair. I grab my trainers and shove my feet into them before grabbing my wallet.

  
  


"You going out?" he asks.

  
  


"Yep."

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


"Don't worry, I'll be back at seven," I grin.

  
  


"No it wasn't that. I was just going to ask if you wanted to do anything for the rest of the afternoon - but if you've got plans, it's no biggie."

  
  


"Sorry Chaz," I sigh as I open up my wallet.

  
  


Yeah - I'd rather get high than hang out with my friends - I think to myself bitterly.

  
  


I frown as I flick through the various compartments in search of some money, finding none whatsoever.

  
  


"Damn," I mutter, "Listen I better get going. I'll catch you later."

  
  


"Sure," he sighs turning back into the bathroom.

  
  


I frown and shrug as he slams the door. Shoving my wallet into my back pocket I

head across the lounge and out through the front door.

  
  


It doesn't take me long to get into the main part of town and I stand on the corner of a street, my eyes scanning the rows of shops for a bank or cash machine. I spot the latter built in between a shoe shop and a bakery and head across the busy road towards it.

  
  


I pull my card from my wallet and slide it into the machine, swiftly entering my pin number on the keypad. I look at the screen, glancing at the options and picking 'check balance', keeping my fingers crossed behind my back.

  
  


_$0.00_

  
  


"Oh fuck," I hiss as I wait for my card to be returned.

  
  


I grab it from the slot and shove it back into my wallet, nervously biting on my nails as I slowly begin to walk down the street, wondering what the hell to do.

  
  


I'm broke and I need money. I need some money so badly.

  
  


"Watch it!"

  
  


I jump as I realize I have just walked into a middle aged woman with a pile of shopping bags - now scattered across the floor.

  
  


"Sorry," I apologize, bending down to help her out. I grab a bunch of bags from the floor, passing them to her.

  
  


She smiles as I get up, the sign on the shop beside me catching my eye. I stare up at it.

  
  


_Nathan's Pawn Brokers._

  
  


I gulp as I walk up to the window, eyeing up the small collection of rings and jewelry that are on display in the window. Something twinkling in the reflection catches my eye and I stop, my hand reaching up to the silver chain around my neck.

  
  


I couldn't.

  
  


It was what Brad, Rob, Joe and Dave clubbed together to buy me for my eighteenth birthday.

  
  


I couldn't.

  
  


My fingers slowly wrap around it, my heart racing as I stare into the window.

  
  


I really need the money.... I  _really_  need it.

  
  


I gulp and pull my eyes away from my reflection, reluctantly pushing the door open as I step into the dark, musty shop.

  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  


My neck feels so bare without it's chain. I don't think I've ever taken it off since the day I got it. I keep fidgeting, my hand absently reaching up to tug at it, only it's no longer there.

  
  


I lie here on my bed, a soft evening breeze sweeping in through the open window behind me.

  
  


The faint sound of children playing in one of the gardens nearby fills my ears along with the soft strum of Chester's guitar.

  
  


He sits on his bed, his back turned to me as he slowly plays through a song, stopping every so often to turn the pages of music over.

  
  


Our bedroom door opens and Dave and Joe step in, not even acknowledging me as they step over to Chester, plonking themselves down on his bed.

  
  


I watch the three of them as they talk idly amongst themselves, laughing and joking, just like friends do.

  
  


A few minutes later, Rob joins them, flopping down beside Chester. Dave takes the guitar, and Joe starts singing along in a high pitched voice, laughter erupting from the four of them as Chester joins in, singing something about wizards.

  
  


That's when it hits me.

  
  


They don't even want to know me anymore. They don't even talk to me much anymore. Only it's not them, is it? It's not Rob, Joe, Chester and Dave that are slowly moving away from me, barely communicating with me.

  
  


No, it's me.

  
  


I've been distancing myself from them for months now. Saying I'm busy when they

ask me to do things, making up excuses when they ask me to go down to our rehearsal space and practice with them again.

  
  


It's me.

  
  


And do you know what the funniest thing is?

  
  


I don't even care.

  
  


I don't even care that I am slowly slipping away from my four best friends, my only friends. It doesn't even matter to me that I'm pushing them further and further away from me.

  
  


Because I'm past caring.

  
  


I'm starting to hate myself, resent myself so much, more and more each day.

  
  


For every day of my worthless life that slowly flutters away, I begin to feel more and more hurt, more pain.

  
  


But I don't care.

  
  


Because I'm past caring.

  
  


I don't even know why I'm here anymore, why I bother carrying on. Every day has become so monotonous, so pointless and I start to wonder why, in fact, I'm still here. Why I'm still bothering to breathe.

  
  


Believe me, I don't feel much like breathing.

  
  


I feel like shutting my eyes to all this misery and never waking up again.

  
  


Not only would it put my mind at rest, but also Chester's, Rob's, Dave's, Joe's. They'd no longer have to pretend to seem interested in me. They could get on with their lives.

  
  


I let out a sigh, wishing that my mind would just be quiet for one whole minute. Rolling onto my side, I turn away from the others, sighing as I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

  
  


Once again, I'm questioning my existence, my power to keep on going.

  
  


Once again, my will to live is slowly fading away.

  
  


Along with my hope, my smile, it's slowly disappearing.

  
  


And this time, I'm not sure if I want it back.


	13. Chapter 13

Tears spill from my eyes as I stare back at my reflection yet again. I haven't eaten a thing in the past week, nor have I slept or uttered a word to anyone.

  
  


Ever since I started to think of suicide again, I've not been able to get the bitter thoughts out of my mind.

  
  


It's like they're controlling me.

  
  


All I think about is death.

  
  


All dream about is death.

  
  


I want to die so badly, that it hurts.

  
  


Yet I want to live so badly, that it hurts.

  
  


I'm so confused.

  
  


Part of me wants to go, let the grey thoughts of my mind disappear forever.

  
  


Part of me wants to stay, though what for, I do not know.

  
  


I feel so empty, so numb. It's as if there is no label for the way I'm feeling right now - because I can't describe it.

  
  


Nothing.

  
  


Emptiness.

  
  


I feel like someone is playing with my mind. Playing cruel tricks with my thoughts. It's like someone's ripped all my emotions away, and replaced them with jumbled words, messy pictures.

  
  


I can't concentrate anymore.

  
  


My mind is constantly filled with thoughts, feelings I can't describe.

  
  


I feel like I'm not here, like this isn't really me, this isn't really happening.

  
  


I feel like someone else is controlling me, telling me things, feeding thoughts into my mind. Only everything is going too fast. I don't have time to think about one thing, because everything is blurred inside my head, everything is moving too fast and I can't hold on.

  
  


I can't hold on anymore.

  
  


I'm slipping away, my mind's going crazy. My thoughts are spiraling out of control.

  
  


I don't think I can do this any longer.

  
  


I don't think I can go on.

  
  


I glance back up in the mirror, tracing my fingers along my prominent cheek bones. I wince at the way they stand out, my pale skin pulled tight across my face, my whole body. Ribs jut out underneath my paper like skin, hip bones even more pronounced. My fingers are thin and spindly, I look so ill.

  
  


Maybe it's because I  _am_  so ill.

  
  


Not only physically, but mentally.

  
  


It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think.

  
  


Everything hurts.

  
  


I feel like I'm beyond repair, suicide seems like the only answer.

  
  


_Suicide._

  
  


The word begins to resound in my head, repeating itself over and over.

  
  


_Suicide._

  
  


My breath catches in my throat as I tug at my hair, my unwashed hair. I glare at my body, it's twisted reflection laughing at me in the mirror.

  
  


I haven't washed for days, my hands are almost black, nails grubby and bitten down. I run one of my hands across my face again, wincing as tears begin to drip from my eyes. Black bags hang from underneath them, the results of sleepless nights, nights where I hide underneath my bed covers, twisted thoughts racing through my mind as I try to battle against them, try to fall asleep.

  
  


Only I can't.

  
  


I finally pull my eyes away from the mirror, my heart racing as I turn into my bedroom, the eerie silence of the house starting to grate on my sanity.

  
  


Everyone's out. Chester at work, the others just started back at college. I should be with them. I should be sat with Joe, smiling and laughing, trying to concentrate on my work as Joe's mood swings get the better of him and he either bitches at me or laughs along with my jokes.

  
  


Only I'm not.

  
  


I'm stuck here, wasting my life away.

  
  


I'm trapped.

  
  


Trapped inside this person I've become.

  
  


I'm not Mike anymore.

  
  


I don't know who I am.

  
  


I don't like who I am.

  
  


Only I can't change it, I'm not strong enough to change.

  
  


The only option I have is to get out.

  
  


Forever.

  
  


_Suicide._

  
  


_Suicide._

  
  


The word races around my head, screaming at me, yelling at me.

  
  


Hot tears run down my cheeks, my throat stinging as I begin to sob. I race into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the drainer and shakily fill it up with water. I pour the cold liquid down my throat, trying to catch my breath, trying to stop my cries.

  
  


I slam the glass down on the counter and lean against the sink, my heart beginning to pound in my chest as something catches the corner of my eye.

  
  


A bottle.

  
  


Vodka.

  
  


I stare at the tall glass bottle as it sits on the counter, so innocent, yet it seems to scream out at me, seems to laugh at me.

  
  


I shakily pick it up and without a second thought head to my room, the door slamming shut behind me.

  
  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  
  


"Mike? Fuck. Mike?"

  
  


I slowly open my eyes, smiling as Chester's face comes into view.

  
  


"Mike, what the hell have you done, huh?" he asks, shaking me lightly.

  
  


"I just had a little drink, or two," I giggle, pointing to the near empty vodka bottle in my hand, "Do you wansome?" I ask him, frowning as my voice slurs a little.

  
  


"No," he sighs, prizing the bottle from my grasp, "You've drunk all this?" he frowns.

  
  


"Uh huh," I grin, pushing myself up against the wall only to slip back down again, my head hitting the carpet, "Oops," I chuckle.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"Mmm?" I ask, looking up to him. I frown as I see the stern look upon his face, "Are you mad with me Chazzy?" I pout.

  
  


"No," he sighs, "Just get up will you?"

  
  


"Mkay," I mumble, pushing myself up from the floor. A wave of dizziness flows through me as I get to my feet and I quickly reach out for Chester, almost knocking him to the floor as he grabs me by the arms.

  
  


"Oops," I giggle, falling against him.

  
  


"Come on. Let me get you into bed," he tells me.

  
  


"I didn't know you felt that way," I laugh, burying my head further into his

shoulder.

  
  


"Mike, you're totally wasted, now will you just move a minute, you're not light, you know."

  
  


I pull away and look back at him, trying to figure which head I should focus on, there are so many of them.....

  
  


"Mike----"

  
  


"I'm not dr---- drunk," I stutter, before falling back against him, "Do you think I'm drunk Chazzy?"

  
  


"You're fucking wasted. Now just get off me a minute," he sighs.

  
  


"Aww but you're comfy Chazzy," I smile, closing my eyes as I slide my arms around his waist.

  
  


"Mike. Oh god, Rob? Rob, will you come here a minute?"

  
  


"Are we going to have a threesome?" I mumble, snuggling further against him, feeling tiredness creeping over me, "I'm tired," I yawn.

  
  


"What is it? Oh Mike."

  
  


Rob?

  
  


I open my eyes and look up at Rob, a concerned expression upon his face, "Rob," I smile.

  
  


"Come on, let's get you into bed. Sleep this off, you're going to feel crap tomorrow----"

  
  


His voice begins to fade away and I feel his arms around me, lifting me up and lowering me into bed, at least I think it's my bed.

  
  


"----How much did he drink?"

  
  


"The whole bottle, I think."

  
  


"Great."

  
  


"Robbie---- Rob----"

  
  


"What is it?"

  
  


I frown, opening my eyes and blinking as I feel him sit beside me.

  
  


"It hurts," I sigh, feeling tears in my eyes.

  
  


"What does?"

  
  


"My heart---- it hurts----"

  
  


"I'm not surprised, you just drank that whole bottle."

  
  


"No, it hurts Robbie. I miss him," I whisper, tears forming in the corners of my eyes, "I want him back Rob, I want him back so bad----"

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  
  


I feel like someone is repeatedly punching me in the stomach, my insides feel as though they have been ripped out and my head is pounding in pain.

  
  


I've spent the last two and a half hours leant over the toilet, throwing up the entire contents of my stomach and still I sit here, tears streaming down my face, my head held in my hands.

  
  


I can barely remember what happened last night. Parts of it keep flashing back to me. I remember Chester coming back from work and finding me drunk as hell in our bedroom and I remember him and Rob sitting with me for a while.

  
  


Then that's it. I keep remembering something from this morning though. I vaguely remember getting up just after everyone had left to get some painkillers..... my heart stops as I catch sight of a cardboard packet on the floor; the painkillers.

  
  


Oh fuck.

  
  


I try to catch my breath as I remember more clearly what happened. I must have still been drunk, I got them from the kitchen and......

  
  


I clutch my stomach and flop against the bathroom wall, shaking, no wonder I feel so fucking bad.

  
  


"Anyone home?"

  
  


I jump as Chester's voice rings through the house; it's afternoon already?

  
  


"Ches----" I try to call, but don't seem to have the strength to, "Ches--- Chester," I manage to call, a sob escaping my throat.

  
  


I hear his footsteps and look up as the bathroom door slowly opens.

  
  


"Ches, I didn't mean to, I----" my voice stops as a wave of dizziness floods through me and I feel myself about to throw up again.

  
  


"Oh fuck Mike," he gasps, racing over to me and helping to the toilet as I throw up, an acidic taste in my mouth.

  
  


"What did you take?" he asks me urgently and I point to the empty packet beside me.

  
  


"Fuck," he mutters, picking it up, "How many?"

  
  


"I, I don't know----"

  
  


"Mike. How many? I need to know?"

  
  


"I don't remember," I cry, "I didn't mean to do it," my voice cracks as more tears spill down my cheeks, "I feel really bad Chaz," I whisper, leaning back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall.

  
  


I look up to him, his lips moving, but I don't hear what he says as my eyes begin to force themselves shut, my mind blacking out.

  
  
  
  


\------------

  
  
  
  


"Spike?"

  
  


"Chester?"

  
  


My eyes flicker open as I hear that familiar voice again.

  
  


"Chester, is that you?" I whisper as I focus on my surroundings. I slowly turn my head to see him sat beside me.

  
  


"You had us scared back then," he sighs, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek, "How are you feeling?"

  
  


"Like someone just ripped my insides out," I frown, glancing around at the sterile white environment, "How did I get here?"

  
  


"I called an ambulance after you passed out," he pauses, "You took an overdose Mike, do you remember?"

  
  


I stare back at him, my eyes burning into his, "I didn't mean to," I whisper, my voice slightly croaky.

  
  


He slowly nods his head and pulls his hand away, "I have to tell the nurse that you're awake," he whispers, pushing his chair back and getting up, leaving the room in silence.

  
  


I sigh and look down at my hands, a drip in my right one.... I never realized I had become so pale again.

  
  


I close my eyes, wincing in pain as my head begins to throb, my heart pounding heavily, deep inside my chest. I slowly open my eyes, shakily bringing my hand up to wipe away the sleep.

  
  


The door opens and Chester steps in, a nurse that I'm sure I recognize from one

of my previous visits to this place, close behind him.

  
  


"Mr. Shinoda," she smiles as Chester sits back down beside me, resting his hand on top of mine.

  
  


"How are you feeling?" she asks, taking the clipboard that hangs from the edge of my bed.

  
  


"Not too good," I sigh as she begins to fiddle with the machinery I am hooked up to, the machines that are keeping me alive.

  
  


"I'm not surprised," she sighs, clicking her pen as she places the charts back at the end of my bed, "Luckily for you, you're going to be fine. We're keeping you in for the next few days until you recover a little. You're very weak at the moment," she stops to look up at Chester, "We'll be sending a psyche nurse down to speak with you tomorrow----"

  
  


"But I----"

  
  


"You get some rest, okay? Your friend can stay a while longer," she smiles before turning out of the door.

  
  


I sigh, feeling tears in my eyes as I turn to look at Chester. He doesn't look too good; his eyes have heavy bags under them and his clothes are creased and crumpled.

  
  


"What are you thinking?" he asks, concern upon his face.

  
  


"You need a shave," I tell him.

  
  


He lets out a deep chuckle and takes my hand once again, gently running his thumb over it as he speaks.

  
  


"You've been out of it for the past five hours," he sighs, "I was so scared," he pauses, "I honestly didn't think you were going to make it."

  
  


I feel my tears spilling, a choke escaping me as I begin to sob.

  
  


"I didn't mean to do it," I sob, my tears falling harder and harder as he pulls me into his arms, "I wasn't thinking straight," I tell him, "I want this to stop Chester, I don't want to feel like this anymore."

  
  


He nods his head, his warm hands gently running up and down my back, "It's okay," he whispers, "You don't have to feel like this anymore. I'm going to help you, we all are," he tells me.

  
  


I hear the door opening and slowly pulling away, looking up to see Rob, Dave and Joe, worry evident on their faces as they rush in.

  
  


"Oh God. You're okay, thank God," Dave gasps, racing over to me.

  
  


I barely have time to take a breath as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him.

  
  


"Chester was in hysterics when he called," Rob states as Dave pulls away, "Don't ever do that to us again," he tells me, leaning down to hug me.

  
  


I slowly nod my head, smiling as I feel the bed dip as Joe sits beside me.

  
  


I glance around at my four friends, realizing how wrong I've been.

  
  


They do care.

  
  


They care so much, and I know for a fact that it would kill them if I died.

  
  


I feel Chester's hand squeezing mine and I look up to him, noticing that he has been crying.

  
  


I feel a sharp pain in my chest as I realize that I very nearly never saw any of these guys again.

  
  


"Will you get me help?" I whisper, glancing around as their frowns slowly turn into smiles, "I want help."

  
  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  
  


"I'll come and see you next week," Chester smiles, wrapping his arms around me, "You take care," he whispers, "And get better, yeah?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head, fighting back my tears as he gently rubs my back.

  
  


"Are we ready, Mr. Shinoda?"

  
  


I smile softly and pull away from Chester, stopping to look him in the eyes before I let go.

  
  


"Yeah," I nod, picking my bag up from the floor.

  
  


I glance around at Joe, Rob and Dave and they flash me smiles, wishing me luck as I push through the metal door.

  
  


I look back once more, my eyes resting on Chester and he smiles at me, warming my heart, letting me know that from now on things are going to get better.

  
  


I smile back, finally letting the door close as I follow the nurse down the sterile smelling corridor.

  
  


We stop at an elevator and she pushes the button, the door whizzing open, then shut once again as we step inside.

  
  


We finally step out once again into a similar looking corridor. She leads me along it and outside into a grassy area, filled with trees and plants. We make our way along a long winding path, that leads to an opening in the trees.

  
  


We finally reach a large, modern building and we cross across the parking lot, towards the main entrance.

  
  


I look up at the sign that hangs proudly above the door.

 

_Norton Rehabilitation Centre._

  
  


My home for the next two months. When I come out of there, I'll no longer be an addict. I'll be clean.

  
  


And I know that I'm going to do it.

  
  


I smile, feeling a slight glimmer of hope deep inside me and this time, I'm not being sarcastic, I really feel it.

  
  


'Cause this time I know.

  
  


Things  _are_  going to get better.

  
  


Things are going to change.


	14. Chapter 14

"Ready?"

  
  


I look back at the large building behind me and slowly nod my head.

  
  


"Good."

  
  


A sigh of relief escapes me as I pull on my seat belt. Chester steers the car down the long driveway and pulls onto the road.

  
  


I glance out of the window one final time, watching as the building fades into the distance behind tall trees and red brick houses. I finally turn back in my seat, watching the road ahead of me.

  
  


Two whole months on an intensive rehab program and I'm finally out. The last two months of my life have been hard, but I know they've been worth it.

  
  


I've seen things that I don't ever want to see again. There were people in their far

worse off than I was, people who were truly beyond help.

  
  


It scares me to think that a couple more months down the line and I could have been like that.

  
  


Only I'm not, and believe me, I'm pretty relieved.

  
  


Part of me has gone, hopefully forever.

  
  


I feel Chester's eyes on me and glance across at him, his eyes flicking back to the road as we near a junction.

  
  


"What?" I ask, smiling.

  
  


"Nothing," he grins, the vehicle slowing down as we reach the line of traffic in front of us.

  
  


"Ches?"

  
  


He takes his eyes off the road, turning to look at me, a smile plastered across his face, "I'm just really glad to have you back, that's all."

  
  


I feel my smile growing, "Me too," I nod, turning to look out of the window, "Me too."

  
  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  
  


We finally pull up outside our house about three hours later. Chester shuts the engine off and glances across at me, obviously noticing my uneasiness.

  
  


I look up at the house, the concrete steps rising to the wooden front door of the grey bricked building.

  
  


I gulp, memories of the last time I was in there coming back to me.

  
  


I was so sick, so ill, and I still am pretty ill but at least I know now that I've got help, that things are going to be okay.

  
  


It's just that looking up at that house brings doubt to my mind. All the bad memories it holds seem to scream back at me, haunt me in every way imaginable.

  
  


I'm not sure if I can even bring myself to go inside. I don't know, I just don't think I'm going to feel safe anymore.

  
  


Everytime I step foot in the bathroom, I'm going to see myself on the floor, dying.

  
  


What if things get bad again, what if I'm tempted again?

  
  


I don't even realize that I'm shaking, until Chester places his hand upon mine to steady it.

  
  


"I'll take your bag in, okay? Then I'll come and get you."

  
  


I nod weakly, my heart pounding as all the hope, all the confidence I'd built up feels like it's draining away.

  
  


I hear the door shut and watch as Chester climbs the steps, placing my bag down as he unlocks the door. He steps inside, pushing the door shut.

  
  


I honestly don't know if I can do this.

  
  


I thought I was getting somewhere, I thought that things were going to get a little easier.

  
  


But right now, easy is exactly the opposite to how I'd describe things.

  
  


I feel my breath catching in my throat, fear rising inside me as a tear slowly trickles down my cheek.

  
  


I wipe it away as I see the front door opening, Chester swiftly making his way down the steps. He opens the door and crouches down in front of me, placing his hand on top of mine.

  
  


"I know this is hard," he tells me, "But I'm right here, okay?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head, heart thudding inside my chest.

  
  


"Come on," he smiles softly, giving my hand a squeeze.

  
  


He lets go and stands up, waiting patiently as I slowly unbuckle my seat belt, letting it slide away as I step out of the car, the door shutting softly behind me.

  
  


"Ready?" Chester asks.

  
  


I swallow, knowing I'll never be ready, but nod anyhow, gratefully taking Chester's hand as he holds it out to me.

  
  


We climb the steps together, and enter the warm house.

  
  


I start to shiver as Chester locks the door behind us. I glance around the lounge, the kitchen, my eyes resting on my bedroom door.

  
  


"Do you want something to eat? A drink?"

  
  


Chester's friendly voice and a soft hand upon my shoulder relaxes me a little and I turn to face him, shaking the haunting images from my head.

  
  


"No, I'm okay thanks," I tell him.

  
  


"You sure?" he asks, "It's no trouble."

  
  


"I'm fine," I assure him, "I'm feeling a little sleepy," I tell him, looking back to my bedroom door.

  
  


"Yeah, the journey was a little tiring," he agrees, "Come on, you go and get some rest and I'll wake you when the others get back, yeah?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head, my eyes still fixated on the wooden door, scared of what's behind it. Scared of what I might remember.

  
  


"Mike? You okay?" Chester asks, stepping in front of me.

  
  


"Yeah," I slowly nod, "Chester--- I'm just a little nervous, y'know, about going in there," I tell him, nodding my head toward out bedroom door.

  
  


His frown softens and he pulls me in against him, hugging me gently, "It's okay," he whispers, "I understand," he tells me, "Do you want to sleep on the couch for now? I can get you some blankets."

  
  


"No," I shake my head, pulling away, "I'll be okay," I tell him, trying to reassure

myself.

  
  


He takes my hand again and we walk over to the door, gently pushing it open.

  
  


I step inside the warm room, everything looks like it's been cleaned, tidied away. My bed is neatly made, my favorite pillow lying in it's usual place.

  
  


I let go of Chester's hand and step further in, walking across to my bed. I sit down on it, forgetting how comfortable it had been as I lie back, kicking off my shoes.

  
  


Chester pulls the blankets over me and squeezes my hand.

  
  


"You gonna be okay?" he asks.

  
  


"Yeah, thanks," I smile, feeling my eyes start to shut.

  
  


"I'll be in the lounge," he nods, getting up. He pulls the curtains shut, blocking the evening sun out, glancing at me one last time before he heads into the lounge, pulling the door to a little behind him.

  
  


I pull the covers up tightly around me, turning onto my side as I slowly drift off to sleep.

  
  
  
  


\-------

  
  
  
  


"Mikey--- Pst--- Mikey."

  
  


I slowly open my eyes, looking around the unfamiliar surroundings.

  
  


"Mikey."

  
  


"What?" I ask, trying to figure out where I am.

  
  


"Oh Mikey."

  
  


"Who's that?" I ask, trying to push the covers away from me. Only I can't, they're too heavy.

  
  


"It's me."

  
  


"Who's 'me'?" I ask again, trying to shift from under the cover. It's getting too hot and I can feel sweat sliding down my back.

  
  


"Jake."

  
  


"Jake?" I sit up, my head hitting something as the sheets finally fall away, "Jake?" I look around, seeing no one in my dark surroundings.

  
  


"Yeah."

  
  


"Where are you?" I ask frantically, trying to get to my feet, only I can't.

  
  


"Over here."

  
  


I hear a chuckle to my left and look across.

  
  


"Wrong way."

  
  


I look to my right, my head beginning to feel light as I strain my eyes to see through the darkness.

  
  


"I can't see you," I whisper.

  
  


Silence.

  
  


"Jake?"

  
  


"What?"

  
  


"What do you want?" I ask nervously.

  
  


Silence.

  
  


I hear someone shifting beside me and shiver as I feel the bed dip.

  
  


"Jake? Is that you?" I ask, beginning to panic as I hear a sharp hissing noise. I jump as a flame lights up before my eyes and after blinking several times I see a face in front of me.

  
  


Jake.

  
  


I try to back away, try to move but his strong hand grips my wrist, pulling me

ferociously to face him.

  
  


"Hey Mikey," he smiles, letting out a cackle as he moves the match away from my eyes.

  
  


I blink and slowly gulp, my heart pounding as my eyes meet with his face. His deep brown eyes smile back at me, "Want to have some fun?" he spits.

  
  


"Leave me alone," I hiss, trying to push him away.

  
  


"Aw, come on Mikey, play nice."

  
  


"Get away from me."

  
  


"That's no way to treat your clients."

  
  


I cringe as the word leaves his mouth, his sickening laughter spinning around inside my head.

  
  


"Just go," I tell him.

  
  


"Not until we've had some fun---"

  
  


"No---"

  
  


"Oh come on Mikey, you know you want it."

  
  


"Stop it Jake, get off me."

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"Get away from me---"

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"Jake please, just leave---"

  
  


"Mike, wake up."

  
  


My eyes flutter open and sit up with a start, clutching my blankets around me, the sound of my heart pounding resounds in my ears.

  
  


"Dude, it was just a nightmare, are you okay?"

  
  


I look back at Chester, shaking my head.

  
  


"Come here," he sighs, pulling me into his arms, "Ssh," he whispers, gently rubbing my back.

  
  


"I thought things were going to be a little easier," I sob, "I thought I was going to be okay."

  
  


"You will be, it just takes time."

  
  


"I'm scared though, Ches. What if things are never okay?"

  
  


"They will be. I promise you, everything's going to be okay."


	15. Chapter 15

"Well, that's all for today Michael. I'll see you the same time next week, okay?"

  
  


"Sure," I smile, getting up from the plush leather couch.

  
  


"You remember to take your medication and make sure you get plenty of sleep, right?"

  
  


I nod and smile, picking up my bag as the fair haired woman opens the door, "Oh and remember what we spoke about, yeah? Your friend obviously wants to help you, so why don't you let him?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head.

  
  


"You take care," she smiles.

  
  


"Thanks," I nod, stepping out into the blue corridor, "See you next week."

  
  


She smiles as I walk down the corridor, towards the reception of the clinic. I push through the double doors that lead outside and smile as I see Chester sat waiting for me in his car.

  
  


"Hey," he smiles, calling through the open window as I walk over to him.

  
  


"Hi," I grin, opening the passenger door and getting in, throwing my bag onto the back seat.

  
  


"So, did you get the job?" I ask, referring to the job interview that Chester had today. It was for a cartoonist for a new comic that's being written.

  
  


A smile slowly creeps across his face, "Yep!"

  
  


"Really?!" I grin, "Well done!" I smile, unable to resist the urge to fling my arms around him.

  
  


I finally pull away, patting him on the back, "I guess I should treasure the moments we spend together now?"

  
  


"What do you mean?" he asks with a chuckle.

  
  


"Well, you're no longer Chester Bennington the burger bar boy, you're now Chester Bennington the cartoonist. People are going to see your kick ass work, famous people are gonna want you to do stuff for them, you, you  _artiste_ ," I tell him over dramatically.

  
  


"I don't think so dude," he grins, laughing at me, "Besides, I'm going to be a rock star, remember?"

  
  


"Oh," I grin, "How could I forget?" I chuckle, prodding him playfully.

  
  


"How'd it go then?" he asks, starting up the engine as I lean back against the soft seat, pulling my seat belt on.

  
  


"Good," I smile, flicking the radio on.

  
  


He flashes me a smile as we pull out onto the main road, heading for the practice studios as we are finally getting around to playing in our band again.

  
  


I wind the passenger window down and lean my head back, a light breeze washing over me as we speed along the highway.

  
  


It's been two weeks since I was discharged from the rehab centre, on account that I visited a shrink, sorry, psychiatrist, every week. I spent two months in there, getting clean and starting to overcome my problems. The first part, surprisingly, was a lot easier than I had ever imagined to be.

  
  


The second part, over coming my problems, well, it's not going too well. Nightmares have kept me, and probably the whole neighborhood awake these past few days, but like Chester said, it takes time.

  
  


I glance across at him, a smile upon my lips. He's always there for me when I wake up shaking and crying from the images of Jake touching me, merging into haunting one's of my father holding me down, violating me. He's always there, holding me gently, telling me things will be okay.

  
  


Today was my second session with my shrink and for the second time I have a bit of optimism inside me, things feel like maybe, just  _maybe_ , they're going to be okay.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


"What time will the others be here?" I ask Chester as he fiddles with his mic stand.

  
  


"Erm, about five. They said something about getting some food on the way over from college," he tells me as he sits down beside me, "Can I see?" he asks, nodding his head to the notebook I hold in my hand.

  
  


"Sure," I nod, placing the cap on my pen and passing him the small spiral bound book. I chew on the end of the pen as I lean back against the small couch, watching him as he reads through it.

  
  


Half of me is scared of his reaction, wondering if he's going to want to know the real meaning behind the lyrics.

  
  


I know I've got to tell him soon.

  
  


I know I've got to open up to him soon, but how soon?

  
  


I sigh and watch his expression turn into a frown.

  
  


"Can I add something?" he asks, finally looking up at me.

  
  


"Sure," I nod, passing him my pen.

  
  


I watch as he pulls the cap off and begins to scribble something down in his neat hand writing, stopping to read through it before he passes it back.

  
  


_Crawling in my skin_

_These wounds they will not heal_

_Fear is (powerful) how I fall_

_Confusing what is real_

  
  


I smile back at him as he gets to his feet, grabbing his bag from where it sits behind the door.

  
  


"Remember those verses I wrote a while back?" he asks.

  
  


"Yeah," I nod, staring back at the words.

  
  


"I think they'd fit together," he nods, pulling his notebook from his bag.

  
  


I watch him as he flicks through the pages filled with drawings and words, stopping as he finds what he is looking for.

  
  


"Here," he nods, "These."

  
  


I smile as I see the words staring back at me, my eyes flicking through them, "That's when I first wrote those," I nod to my book, "They've been in my mind ever since. That would work well as a chorus," I tell him.

  
  


"Yeah," he nods, taking a clean sheet of paper from the back of the book, "I'll write them together."

  
  


I watch him for a moment as he begins to copy them out, my eyes still stuck on the words before me. I remember the first time I read them, they seemed to hit me, they were so powerful.

  
  


They still are, they're so close to what's inside my head that it's scary.

  
  


I glance across at Chester, watching as he concentrates hard, scribbling away on the sheet of paper.

  
  


"Chester?"

  
  


"Yeah?" he asks, his pen stopping as he looks up.

  
  


"These words," I point to the page, "Is this how you feel?"

  
  


He blinks back at me, slowly nodding his head.

  
  


"Me too," I sigh, watching as he places the pen and paper down and turns to face me.

  
  


"Even though I'm better now," he stops for a minute, "Okay, I guess I'll never be sane, right? I don't think I'll ever be completely happy but when I wrote that, it was how I felt that day. A way of getting things out of my head," he stops again, looking up at me, "But I also wrote it because I wanted to help you."

  
  


I stare back at him, my heart seeming to warm as he smiles weakly.

  
  


"I wrote those lyrics for you. I wanted to let you know that I felt like that too, I still do," he sighs.

  
  


I blink back at him, taking a breath as I try to speak.

  
  


He wrote those verses for me?

  
  


I smile at him, taking his hand, "Thank you Chester," I tell him.

  
  


"It's o---"

  
  


"Good afternoon my companions, not interrupting are we?"

  
  


I look up to the door to see Joe and Rob, smiles upon their faces as they step into the small room, flopping down on the chairs.

  
  


I pull my hand away from Chester's and get to my feet, "I'm just going to get a drink," I tell them, heading out of the room.

  
  


I bump into Dave as I head down the dimly lit corridor, in search of the vending machine.

  
  


"You okay?" he asks.

  
  


"Fine," I nod, not stopping to talk.

  
  


I turn the corridor and find the machine, shoving a couple of coins into the slot. I slam my fist against the coke button and wait as the machine drops my can.

  
  


How could I have been so blind?

  
  


The minute I'd read those lyrics all those months ago, I knew that Chester obviously had some idea of what I was thinking, the things I was feeling.

  
  


Only I pushed him away.

  
  


Far away.

  
  


And where did it get me?

  
  


Absolutely nowhere.

  
  


I sigh and grab my can from the machine, leaning back against the wall as I pop it open.

  
  


Maybe now's the time I should stop pushing people away, huh?

  
  
  
  


\-----------

  
  
  
  


"Today was fun," Chester smiles, flopping down beside me on my bed.

  
  


"Yeah," I agree, "I'd forgotten how much I loved making music."

  
  


"Me too."

  
  


I sigh and roll onto my stomach, chuckling as I hear Rob and Joe screaming in the kitchen.

  
  


"I swear that guy gets worse," I smile.

  
  


"Kill! Die! You're evil Rob, I'm gonna get--- ow---"

  
  


Chester looks back at me, raising an eyebrow, "Has he been taking your prozac or something?" he chuckles.

  
  


I let out a laugh and look up as our bedroom door crashes open. A bewildered Rob racing through it and hiding behind it as Joe closely follows him, brandishing a water pistol.

  
  


"I've got a pistol and I am not afraid to use it," Joe states, jumping up onto Chester's bed and pointing the bright pink, plastic toy at us.

  
  


"Joe, is there something you wanna tell us?" Chester asks.

  
  


"ARGGH," he shouts and before I know it he has landed on my bed, pinning Chester down against it, water spraying everywhere.

  
  


Rob jumps out from behind the door, grabbing the water gun from Joe's grasp and immediately begins to squirt the contents at him.

  
  


I let out a laugh at the sight of Joe toppling onto the floor and grappling with Rob as he tries to get the toy back.

  
  


"You think it's funny, Michael, huh?" Joe hollers, pushing Rob off him. The pink gun scoots across the floor and Joe makes a dash for it, grabbing it in his hands. He grins evilly at me before launching himself at me. All the air seems to leave my lungs as he lands on top of me with a thud and I splutter as he squirts the ice cold water in my face, the sound of Rob and Chester laughing, rings in my ears.

  
  


"What the  _hell_  is going on?"

  
  


Joe slowly pulls the pink gun away from my face and the four of us look up at Dave who stands in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest, looking completely bemused.

  
  


Before he has chance to move, Joe bounds over to him, sending him crashing to the floor with a scream as the water hits his face.

  
  


I let out a laugh as I look across to Rob and Chester, who are both soaking wet.

  
  


"Bugger," Joe sighs, finally getting off Dave as the water in his pistol is used up, "I won!" he grins, waving his arms in the air, "I won!"

  
  


I look across to Rob, Dave and Chester and let out another laugh, shaking my head at Joe's stupidity. Chester frowns, water still dripping down his face as he nudges Rob, who looks up at me, a smile spreading across his face.

  
  


"Mike- you're- you're smiling, you're laughing!" he exclaims.

  
  


"Yeah," I blush as everyone's eyes settle on me, "I'm allowed, right?"

  
  


"Course you are," Rob grins, "It's a good thing," he nods.

  
  


I smile back at them, realizing that this is one of the first sincere smiles I've had in a long time. Hopefully not the last.

  
  


"Well, Rob and I have a shift to be working," Joe sighs, shoving the pistol in his back pocket.

  
  


"And I've got to go get some school work done," Dave groans.

  
  


"We'll catch you later then," Rob smiles, glancing at Chester for a moment.

  
  


"What are you up to?" I ask.

  
  


"What?" Rob smiles, "Nothing," he grins, flashing Chester a knowing look.

  
  


I shrug as they head out of the room and get to my feet, dripping water everywhere as I walk into the bathroom and grab some towels.

  
  


I pull of my shirt and begin to rub myself dry, chucking Chester the other towel as I flop back down onto my bed beside him.

  
  


"It's nice to act like a kid sometimes," he grins, throwing the wet towel to the floor as he finishes with it.

  
  


"Yeah," I smile, as he turns on his side to face me.

  
  


"What?" I ask him, a smile creeping across my face as he stares at me.

  
  


"Nothing," he smiles, "I'm just glad you're starting to feel a little better."

  
  


"Thanks," I smile, "And thanks for putting up with me. I know I'm not the best of company at times."

  
  


"S'ok," he smiles.

  
  


I fiddle nervously with the fastening of my belt for a few seconds, glancing back at Chester before I speak.

  
  


"Chester?"

  
  


"Yeah?"

  
  


I clear my throat, trying to rid all of the doubt that I have in my mind. Like my shrink said, a problem shared is a problem halved. I have to tell someone or things are just going to go downhill again.

  
  


"Chaz," I clear my throat, "I have something I need to tell you."


	16. Chapter 16

"Sure," Chester smiles back at me, and I feel myself beginning to back away.

  
  


Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. I mean, he doesn't need to hear about my problems, does he? He doesn't need to.....

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I glance back across to him and let out a sigh.

  
  


"Will you promise not to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," I ask him, my voice coming out in a whisper.

  
  


He frowns and slowly nods his head.

  
  


"I told my shrink about you," I sigh, "I told her that I have this really nice friend who I know wants to help, only I'm kind of scared," I admit, "I'm kinda scared of what will happen if I tell them, what they'll think of me," I pause, glancing at him again, "She told me I should tell you."

  
  


"Tell me what?"

  
  


"Everything."

  
  


"Everything?"

  
  


I nod.

  
  


"I'm waiting then," he smiles.

  
  


"You really want to know? You really wan----"

  
  


"Isn't it obvious by now?" he asks, "Mike, I want to help you. Okay?"

  
  


I nod.

  
  


"So whatever it is, you tell me, okay?"

  
  


I nod again.

  
  


"And before you go on, I want you to promise me something?"

  
  


I slowly turn to him, my eyes fixing with his deep brown orbs, "Yeah?"

  
  


"Promise me that you'll talk. I know I've said it before, but I'm here for you Spike,"

he smiles, "I've been through shit, so I know what I'm talking about, I know a little of what you're feeling, okay?"

  
  


"Okay," I pause for a minute, "I don't know where to start."

  
  


"The beginning?" he smiles.

  
  


"The beginning, yeah, that'd be a good place," I smile, the uneasiness starting to fade a little, "Okay. Remember I told you I was adopted when I was a few months old?"

  
  


"Yeah," he nods.

  
  


"Well, the people that brought me up, we didn't get on too well," I sigh, fiddling with my bed covers, "God knows how they were eligible to adopt, but they were. They were horrible people Chester. They didn't look after me properly, they said I was a nuisance. I think they lived with the 'Children should be seen and not heard' rule," I stop, "I'm not making sense, am I?"

  
  


"You're doing fine," Chester nods reassuringly.

  
  


"I don't actually remember when it first started, because I was too young to know that it was wrong," I clear my throat, "My erm," I stop, feeling tears in my eyes as I see things I don't  _ever_  want to live through again, playing through my head.

  
  


"Mike, you okay?"

  
  


I take a deep breath as I nod my head and carry on, "The man who was supposed to be my Father," I shudder, "He.... he sexually abused me."

  
  


I stare back at Chester, his eyes piercing into mine, shock etched upon his face.

  
  


"Oh My----" he stops, quickly grabbing my hand as I begin to cry, "Fuck Mike, that's awful, I, I don't know what to say," he whispers, pulling me against him.

  
  


I try not to cry, I try  _so_  hard not to let the tears in my eyes escape, but it's no use.

  
  


I feel Chester's hands running up and down my bare back as he tries to soothe me.

  
  


"I'm sorry," I whisper, hastily wiping my tears away with the back of my hand as I pull away from him.

  
  


"It's okay," he soothes, his arm still wrapped protectively around me as I lean my head against his shoulder.

  
  


"How long did it go on for?" he asks.

  
  


"About ten years," I reply, sniffling as my tears begin to stop, "It stopped when I was about sixteen."

  
  


"Fuck-- didn't you ever tell anyone?"

  
  


I shake my head, "Brad was the only one that knew. He walked in once when I was being--- when I was being raped," my voice fades, "I was too scared to let anyone else know. Things weren't always bad. They were pretty normal, I mean, like a normal family. Only then we'd argue, I'd get into trouble and that's how I was punished. I was too scared to tell though. I didn't want to get taken away from them, they were all I had and no matter how much they hurt me, I always saw them as my parents, even though they weren't, they were the closest I had to family."

  
  


Chester sighs, his hand gently running up and down my arm, "How did you cope though?"

  
  


"I didn't," I pause to look at him, "That's how I got this way. That's how I became so fucked up. I'd skip school, I'd hide away from all my friends, because I didn't want to speak to anyone. I just wanted to be alone all the time, pretend that everything was okay. I was ten years old when I started drugs. I couldn't even read properly, but I knew how to take heroin," I sigh.

  
  


"Ten?"

  
  


"Yeah," I nod, "I started drinking and doing drugs just to escape, because when I was wasted, I didn't have to think about the things  _he_  did to me. By the time I was in high school I was so depressed, I think I've been stuck down there ever since," I sigh, "I've been too scared to let anyone know what happened to me, but even more scared of admitting it to myself."

  
  


"It's easier to run, huh?"

  
  


"Yeah, but when your problems start to catch up with you - easy goes right out of the equation," I shake my head, "I've done everything I can to escape the pain I feel," I pause, "I guess in reality there's no escaping, right?"

  
  


Chester slowly nods his head, "You have to do the hard thing and face it all," his voice is soft, "It's not easy, but I'm here, we all are and we're gonna help you," he smiles.

  
  


I close my eyes briefly, feeling relaxed, feeling like a whole weight has been lifted from my shoulders, "I wanted to tell you so long ago, you know," I admit, opening my eyes, "Only I was too scared of what you'd think."

  
  


"What do you mean?"

  
  


"I thought you'd think I was disgusting, I was so ashamed of what had happened," I stop as Chester runs his hand through my hair.

  
  


"You're not disgusting, don't ever think that, okay?" he tells me.

  
  


I smile and roll onto my stomach, my head resting back on Chester's shoulder,, his arm still wrapped protectively around me.

  
  


"I feel safe like this you know," I smile, watching him as he lets out a chuckle.

  
  


"Good."

  
  


"Brad used to hold me like this," I murmur, "It's funny, he was younger than me, yet always looking out for me, looking after me. He was like the brother I never had," I smile, picturing his smiling face, "Thanks for listening Chaz."

  
  


"Anytime," he nods, "I'm sorry you had to go through all you did but you know that you don't have to feel like that anymore?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head, feeling my eyes close as I snuggle up against Chester's warm body.

  
  


He pulls the blanket over me, wrapping it around me. I swore I'd never let anyone in after Brad, but now, now I guess it really is time to move on.

  
  
  


\-------

  
  
  


The moonlight softly filters in through the window, forming shadows on the walls, a soft breeze causing the open curtains to flutter a little.

  
  


I shiver and pull my blanket tightly around me, trying not to wake Chester as I roll over onto my side, turning my back to him.

  
  


I feel fresh tears slowly sliding down my cheeks.

  
  


I should feel relieved that I told Chester about my past, shouldn't I?

  
  


Part of me does.

  
  


The rest of me feels scared. I don't know why, I just feel so vulnerable. The walls I built up around me have been broken down, now he knows the real me.

  
  


"Hey."

  
  


I jump and quickly wipe away my tears as Chester leans over me, concern in his

eyes.

  
  


"You okay?" he asks, his voice cracking slightly as he yawns.

  
  


"Yeah," I nod, rolling over to face him.

  
  


"What time is it?"

  
  


"A little after nine," I tell him, my eyes suddenly fixing on the chest of drawers beside my bed.

  
  


"Ack, I never meant to sleep that long. How are you feeling?"

  
  


"Okay," I nod, barely listening to him as I see the picture frame that rests beside my alarm clock, it's frame bright red.

  
  


It's of Brad, Rob and I.

  
  


I have the goofiest smile upon my face, my arms slung around Rob and Brad. Rob is sticking his tongue out, a mischievous glint in his eye, but Brad, he looks, well, like Brad always did.

  
  


He has a stern look upon his face, but a smile is playing upon his lips.

  
  


I sit up and lean across, carefully picking the frame up, almost as if I'm afraid that I may drop it.

  
  


I lean back down again, my hands tracing over Brad's face, almost as if it's him. I want it to be him, I really do. I want to see him again so badly, I want him to know that I'm okay, that I'm finally starting to get better.

  
  


Only he'll never know, he'll never see, will he?

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I tear my gaze away from the photo and look up at Chester. He tilts his head at me, almost as if he is trying to read what my thoughts are.

  
  


"You still miss him so much, don't you?" he asks, taking the frame from my hands.

  
  


"Yeah," I nod, watching him as he looks at the picture.

  
  


"When was this taken?" he asks, smiling at the way Rob and I are looking, I assume.

  
  


"About a year ago," I tell him, "Just before Brad turned eighteen," I point at Rob, "He was drunk," I explain.

  
  


"Oh," he chuckles, "And you?"

  
  


"I was probably high off my head," I mutter, taking the picture back.

  
  


I get up and place it back in it's place, picking up my hoody from the floor and pulling it on.

  
  


"You want something to eat?" Chester asks from behind me.

  
  


"No thanks," I answer, turning round, "I, I think I just need some time alone," I sigh, pausing as I absently pick the picture up once again.

  
  


"Okay."

  
  


I smile weakly as I turn and walk over to the door, pushing through it into the lounge. Rob and Joe are sprawled out across one of the couches and Dave stands in front of the oven in the kitchen, a tea towel slung across his shoulder.

  
  


"Dave," I call.

  
  


"Yep?" he replies, turning from the oven.

  
  


"Can I have a smoke?" I ask, pointing to his packet of cigarettes on the kitchen table.

  
  


"Sure," he nods, turning back to the oven.

  
  


I hear him curse, and the smell of something burning fills my nose as I pull one out and light it before stepping past Dave and out into the garden.

  
  


I walk down to the end of it, through the over grown grass and past a couple of sun loungers that have been left out from the summer. I finally reach the wall that runs along the bottom of the garden and place the picture up on it as I carefully jump up.

  
  


I pick the frame up once again and lean my head back as I take a drag from the cigarette.

  
  


Brad's face stares back at me and I keep on staring back, almost as if I expect him to say something.

  
  


Minutes pass before I realize just how stupid I'm being. I shiver and pull my hoody closer, memories of the times Brad and I used to sit out here during sleepless nights, just talking.

  
  


I stub my cigarette out and throw the butt to the floor as I look up at the sky, the moon dipping behind dark clouds. A few stars twinkle back at me and a cool night breeze sweeps past me.

  
  


I clutch the photo close to me, holding it against my chest as my eyes close, the faint sound of Dave clattering about in the kitchen drifts through my ears as I slowly fall asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

"Please Chester."

  
  


"No."

  
  


"Please----"

  
  


"No. No. No. NO."

  
  


"Aww--- Please----"

  
  


"Mike will you shut him up?" Chester chuckles, throwing a piece of paper in Joe's direction. It misses and hits Dave in the face, causing him to let out a groan.

  
  


"Godamit, Chester!" he growls, setting his bass guitar down, "It's bad enough trying to tune that thing with  _him_  going on, let alone you throwing random things my way."

  
  


Rob, Chester, Joe and I stare back at Dave for a good few minutes before finally bursting out into laughter.

  
  


"They were meant for Joe," Chester chuckles, "He is being annoying, after all."

  
  


"I guess you need to practice on your aim, then," Dave sighs, picking up his bass again.

  
  


I watch as Chester tears a page from his notebook and scrunches it up into a tiny ball. He throws it across the room, hitting Dave for the second time right on top of his head.

  
  


"Right on target," Chester beams, "Nothing whatsoever wrong with my aim," he grins.

  
  


Dave lets out a sigh and the small room falls silent once again.

  
  


"Chester---" Joe begins to whine.

  
  


"No."

  
  


"Please?"

  
  


"No."

  
  


"Rob?"

  
  


"I said no already," Rob grins, poking him with one of his drumsticks.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"Uh-uh."

  
  


"Chester."

  
  


"Why can't you go yourself?"

  
  


"I already told you," Joe sighs, "The guy in the store banned me."

  
  


"Yeah," Rob grins, "Joe was banned from the store because he was high on sugar and knocked the porn magazines off the shelve," he chuckles.

  
  


"Okay okay," Chester gives in, "What do you want?"

  
  


"Ooh!" Joe squeals, reaching into his pocket, "Peanut m&ms, a mars, some doritos and some lucazade. Oh and buy Spike a fake smile," he grins, "He's been sitting there all afternoon with a face like a slapped arse---"

  
  


"Fuck off Joe," I spit.

  
  


He sticks his tongue out at me and I give him the finger, watching as Chester grabs his coat.

  
  


"Anyone else want anything?" he asks, getting to his feet and grabbing the money from Joe.

  
  


"No thanks."

  
  


"Dave?"

  
  


"Nuh-uh."

  
  


"Spike?"

  
  


I shake my head, "Okay if I come with?" I ask, grabbing my coat.

  
  


"Sure," he smiles.

  
  


I pull on my black, puffy coat as we head out of the small room and down the corridor.

  
  


"I remember when Joe got banned from the store," I chuckle, "Brad was with him. He didn't stop laughing about if for days," I stop, my smile turning to a frown.

  
  


"You okay?"

  
  


"It's his birthday next week," I sigh, chewing on my lip, "He'd be nineteen," I almost whisper, "I can't believe it's nearly December again. It only seems like the other day when we were at his eighteenth birthday party," I drift off and feel Chester's hand against my shoulder.

  
  


He smiles and pats it gently.

  
  


We finally make our way out of the maze of corridors and step outside into the cold November night. I pull my jacket closer and stare across the parking lot. The rain pours down from the sky above, pattering onto the dirty grey concrete below. I frown as I glance up to the sky, the thick, grey clouds strangely reflecting my mood.

  
  


I pull up my hood and glance across to Chester.

  
  


"The things we do to keep Joe happy, huh?" he chuckles. His laugh seems contagious and I feel a smile slowly creeping it's way across my face as we race across the car park, our feet splashing through the dirty puddles.

  
  


We finally make it to the convenience store and quickly crash through the door, a few heads turning as we stand, panting for breath, rain water dripping from our clothes.

  
  


"Raining is it?" the shopkeeper asks with a laugh.

  
  


I smile at him sarcastically and follow Chester around the store as he picks Joe's food up, a pool of water forming as we trail around the shop.

  
  


"You want anything?" he asks.

  
  


"No thanks," I smile as we reach the counter.

  
  


Chester hands the guy the soaked, crumpled up note as I shove the things into a bag. He grabs his change and we reluctantly leave the shop, glancing up at the sky as more black clouds burst, their contents pouring down onto us.

  
  


"I think I'll walk this time," Chester says, pointing to his chest, "I really need to get fit," he nods.

  
  


I smile as we wait at the side of the road for a gap in the traffic and look over to the tall, grey building that houses our practice space.

  
  


I look further past it and suddenly get an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach as my eyes catch sight of the buildings behind it.

  
  


The warehouse.

  
  


The warehouse where Brad was killed.

  
  


"Mike, come on."

  
  


I shiver, not quite hearing what Chester says. My eyes are fixed on the wooden building, the whole scene starting to play out before my eyes once again.

  
  


_Gus flashes me a sickening smile as he and Darron calmly make their way out of_   _the dust filled building, pulling the door shut behind them. A few seconds later I_   _hear the sound of brakes screeching as their cars drives off._

  
  


_"Brad?" I call again, crawling over to his body._

  
  


_He lies face down in a pool of blood, legs and arms crumpled up._

  
  


_"Brad?"_

  
  


_I'm crying now, fat tears dripping down my bruised cheeks as I gently shake him._

  
  


_"Oh God, Brad, please, please," I choke on my tears as my fingers search for a pulse in his neck; in his wrists._

  
  


_I don't find one though, he's not breathing, he's stopped breathing......_

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I open my eyes, tears filling them as Chester shakes me.

  
  


"Dude, what's wrong?" he asks, his voice thick with concern.

  
  


I slowly nod my head toward the building and he follows my gaze, his face paling slightly as his eyes meet with what I'm staring at.

  
  


"Come on," he says, wrapping his arm around me, "Let's get back inside, yeah?"

  
  


"No," I whisper, not able to shake the images from my head, "I can't go back in there," I tell him.

  
  


"Yes you can," he insists, "Mike, you can."

  
  


I feel myself being pulled across the road, tears trickling from my eyes as we make our way across the parking lot, finally standing inside the entrance.

  
  


"Ches, I can't go back in," I sigh, tugging my arm away from his grasp, "I just keep thinking of Brad. I keep seeing him, I keep seeing him playing his guitar with us. He was so good, Ches, and now he's had it all taken away from him," I whisper, "I can't go in."

  
  


"Okay," Chester nods, digging into his pocket, "You go and sit in my car," he tells me, passing me his keys, "I'll go and give this to Joe and get our stuff, okay?"

  
  


I nod as he turns down the corridor and look at the set of keys in the palm of my hand.

  
  


I wipe my eyes and turn away, quickly racing across the parking lot to Chester's car.

  
  


I unlock the door and climb in the passengers seat, curling up into a ball, letting my tears fall once again.

  
  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  
  


Chester glances across at me, concern etched upon his face as he shuts the engine of his car off.

  
  


"What happened, hey?" he asks.

  
  


"I'm sorry," I frown, rubbing my hands over my face, "I, I just kept seeing him there. I just kept seeing him, I couldn't get him out of my head. I panicked," I sigh, shifting in the seat.

  
  


"It's okay," Chester nods, "You're okay now, right?"

  
  


"Yeah," I nod, unfastening my seat belt.

  
  


"Good," he smiles as we get out of his car and race up the steps to the front door, my keys hastily shoved in the lock and the door flung open as we get in out of the rain which has ceased to stop.

  
  


I drop my wet coat to the floor and kick my shoes off, flopping down on the couch with a sigh.

  
  


"You sure you're okay?" Chester asks as he slowly removes his dripping wet coat, hanging it upon a hook along with mine.

  
  


"Wanna talk?" he asks, placing his shoes by the door before he flops down beside me with a thud.

  
  


"I'm sorry about all that," I sigh, raking my fingers through my hair, "I don't know what happened. I just flipped out. I just need to be alone for a minute," I tell him, getting up from the battered couch. I head over to our room, shutting the door behind me with a soft click.

  
  


I glance across to the window, letting out a shaky sigh.

  
  


I honestly thought I was over this. I thought that I could talk, let my feelings out. Things have been going okay, good almost, you could say.

  
  


But now, now I just feel really weird. It's indescribable.... it's that empty feeling that I haven't had to feel in such a long time.

  
  


Numb.

  
  


Washing over me, so powerful. It feels like I'm not even here, this isn't me, it doesn't feel right.

  
  


I find myself wondering over to the set of drawers beside my bed. I slowly open them, my hand reaching in and connecting with the coolness of the metal tin inside.

  
  


I slowly pull it out, pushing the drawer closed as I sit down on the edge of my

bed. I take the lid off, my breath catching in my throat as I pull out the small penknife.

  
  


I place the tin down and hold the knife out in front of me, my heart beginning to pound as I slowly roll my left sleeve up.

  
  


I just sit there though, caught between the penknife and the scars that cover the inside of my arm.

  
  


I don't even hear the door open. I'm unaware of anyone's presence until I see Chester beside me, shock in his eyes.

  
  


"Please don't," he whispers, his voice pleading with me as he reaches out and swiftly takes the penknife from my grasp.

  
  


I immediately break down in tears, sobs racking my body as Chester sits beside me, wrapping me up in his arms until my tears subside.

  
  


"I'm sorry," my voice cracks as tears slide down my cheeks, "I wasn't going to, I just, I don't know---"

  
  


"Ssh, it's alright," Chester tells me, a reassuring calmness in his voice.

  
  


"I just keep thinking about him, y'know? And it hurts, it really hurts so much. I'd do

anything to get him back," I sigh, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand.

  
  


"Only you can't."

  
  


I glance up at Chester.

  
  


"I'm sorry," he sighs, "But that's how it is. He's dead Mike and blaming yourself, hurting yourself over it isn't going to bring him back, it's not going to do any good."

  
  


"I know," I whisper faintly, "But I deserve to feel this way, it was my fault that he was kil----"

  
  


"Don't," Chester tells me, "Please tell me that if I hadn't had walked in you would have put this back," he pleads, eyeing up the knife in his pale hands.

  
  


I look up at him, seeing pain in his eyes, "I don't know," I whisper, "I honestly don't know."

  
  


"It's not going to make things better," he whispers, "You know that, right?"

  
  


"I know," I nod, "I wasn't thinking though. Okay, I was thinking," I pause, "I was thinking how good cutting myself used to feel. I was thinking about how much I wanted to do it, only I couldn't."

  
  


I feel Chester's hand upon mine, gently squeezing it, an understanding glint in his eyes.

  
  


"Don't you ever feel tempted?"

  
  


He slowly nods his head before speaking, "Sometimes."

  
  


"Sometimes?" I ask.

  
  


"Yeah," he nods again, glancing down to the penknife, "But you've got to remember that it's wrong. It may seem like the answer to all your problems, but it is far from it," he stops, tugging at my hand.

  
  


He pulls me to my feet and leads me out through the lounge and into the kitchen.

  
  


"Here," he nods, passing me the penknife.

  
  


I frown at him as he puts it into my hands, "What----"

  
  


"Stage one," he tells me, pointing to the bin, "You throw it away, you won't be as tempted. Why do you keep it, hey?"

  
  


I stare at him, "Just in---"

  
  


"Case?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head, my eyes wondering over the shiny surface of the knife. I slowly unfold one of the blades; the sharpest blade, the one I always used. It's shiny silveriness is now tarnished, stained with blood. My blood.

  
  


I shiver, glancing back up to Chester, "I just thought that I'd feel better. I thought that maybe if I, I cut myself it would be like punishment..... It was my f----"

  
  


Chester presses his finger to my lips, shaking his head, "No. It wasn't your fault. I hate to say it, but it was just one of those things. One of life's cruel tricks and unfortunately, there's nothing whatsoever that anyone can do about it. I'm not telling you to forget about him, gee, I only knew him for all of two months and I know I'll never forget him. You've just got to let go Mike, move on."

  
  


I let out a shaky sigh, Chester's words sinking into my mind.

  
  


He's right, isn't he?

  
  


Why on Earth can I never see? Why do I always have to have things spelt out to me?

  
  


I slowly push the blade back in and lift the lid of the bin up. I drop the penknife in, the lid swiftly replaced as Chester's voice sounds in my ears.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"Yeah?"

  
  


"Come here," he smiles, wrapping his arms around me.

  
  


I smile and lean against him, closing my eyes, "You're right Ches," I whisper.

  
  


"I know," he chuckles, "I'm always right."

  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  
  


"What's up?" Rob asks me, looking up from the thick, black textbook he's been reading for the past hour or so.

  
  


"Nothing."

  
  


"Oh. Why'd Chester take you home earlier?" he asks.

  
  


"I didn't feel well," I tell him, moving as Chester sits down beside me, passing me a warm mug of tea.

  
  


"You okay now?" Rob asks.

  
  


"Yeah, thanks," I nod, leaning my head back against the couch. I take a sip of my drink and smile at Chester.

  
  


My rock.

  
  


He's been amazing over the past months. Don't get me wrong, the others have

helped a lot too, but Chester's helped more than I could have asked.

  
  


I cannot believe that once, not so long ago, I felt so worthless, so unworthy of their time and help.

  
  


I'm glad that I've finally realized my life  _is_  worth living. I know that things aren't easy, but Chester seems to understand me like no one ever has. He understands the crazy thoughts that still, even now, run riot through my mind.

  
  


Chester and I have grown so close, I think we know one another like the back of our hands.

  
  


I'm honestly grateful for everyday that I live now. It scares me to think that I so very nearly ended it all, that I might not be here this minute.

  
  


But thanks to Chester, I am.

  
  


"Hey. Earth to Spike."

  
  


I jump slightly as Chester's voice breaks into my thoughts.

  
  


"You were spacing out again," he tells me.

  
  


"Sorry," I murmur, glancing up to see Rob has left, "Where's Rob?" I ask, swallowing the last mouthful of my drink. I place my empty mug down on the table and nudge Chester's hands from his knees. He smiles as I lie down, resting my head in his lap.

  
  


"He's gone out to get some food."

  
  


"Oh," I pause, looking up at Chester, "Chaz?"

  
  


"Mmm?"

  
  


"I'm sorry about earlier," I tell him, "Thanks for being here for me."

  
  


"Hey, anytime," he smiles, resting his hand on my stomach, "And thanks for listening to me too, it's good to get everything out."

  
  


"Yeah," I nod in agreement.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"Yeah?"

  
  


"You know we're close?"

  
  


"Yeah," I nod.

  
  


"Does this bother you?" he asks, running his fingers through my hair.

  
  


"Bother me?" I ask, a frown forming across my face, "What do you mean?"

  
  


"I mean this," he says, nodding to the way I've curled myself up in his lap.

  
  


"Oh," I smile, "No."

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


"Why?" I frown, "Does it bother you?" I suddenly ask him.

  
  


"No," he smiles slightly.

  
  


"What?" I ask.

  
  


"It's noth----"

  
  


"Ches."

  
  


"Oh okay," he sighs, pausing for a moment, "It's just that, well, Mike I like you."

  
  


"Yeah," I nod.

  
  


"I mean, I  _really_  like you," he stops, looking down at me.

  
  


"And I like you too," I grin, my brow furrowing as his smile falters, "Chaz?" I ask, sitting up, "What's up?"

  
  


He frowns, chewing on his lip, his deep brown eyes staring right into mine.

  
  


"I just feel so close to you Mike," he sighs, gingerly placing his hand against my cheek.

  
  


I blink back at him as he continues to speak.

  
  


"I guess that some people might think that kissing their best friend would be wrong," he stops, looking me dead in the eye, "Only I don't think it would feel wrong, do you?"

  
  


I stare back at him, feeling my cheeks redden, his eyes still staring right into mine. My heart begins to beat faster and faster as I realize just how close we are sitting. I can feel his breath on my lips, his warm hand still pressed against my cheek. It's taking me everything and more not to push my lips against his, and give him the answer.

  
  


Only I can't.

  
  


Why the hell didn't I see this coming?

  
  


We've grown so close, so unbelievably close and now our feelings are starting to go beyond those of a platonic relationship.

  
  


We're slowly falling in love with one another, aren't we? And I didn't even notice.

  
  


They say love is blind though.

  
  


Well fuck the the clichés. This can't be happening, can it?

  
  


My best friend has just practically asked me to kiss him and.... I think I'm in love with him....

  
  


Hell it all adds up  _now_  doesn't it?

  
  


I love the time I spend with him, I love the conversations we get into, I love the way he makes me feel happy, special, and no, the answer is no.

  
  


No I wouldn't think it wrong to kiss him.

  
  


In fact, exactly the opposite.

  
  


It would feel right, so right, I know it would.

  
  


I wouldn't even see anything wrong with the both of us stripping naked right now and fucking like bunnies.

  
  


That's not right - is it?

  
  


I mean, not because we're both guys - I mean, we're both gay, after all.... I just... Oh God....

  
  


"Say something, please?"

  
  


Chester looks at me, worry etched all over his pale face.

  
  


I blink back at him, quickly getting to my feet. Yes, I want him. I want him so much but I'm too scared. I mean, what if things go wrong? What if I lose him, lose our friendship? I don't think I'm willing to gamble that - without him - I truly would be nothing.

  
  


"I'm sorry Chester," I whisper, my heart sinking as I look back at him. His eyes are clouded over with tears and I don't want to see him cry, "I need to clear my head," I tell him. I don't give him a chance to reply as I race across the lounge and through the front door, feeling it slam behind me.

  
  


I run down the steps, my feet splashing in the muddy puddles, the rain soaking through my thin T-shirt.

  
  


By the time I reach the corner of the street I am soaked through, my clothes clinging to me, water dripping from my cold body. I lean against a wall and slide down it, tears of anger and frustration clouding my vision as I pull my knees up against my chest.

  
  


What am I supposed to do now?


	18. Chapter 18

I lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling, almost as if I'm counting the cracks in the wall.

  
  


Only my mind is on other things.

  
  


Chester.

  
  


I didn't sleep a wink last night, just kept playing everything over and over again in my mind.

  
  


It's driving me crazy.

  
  


I want him, I really want him, yet I'm too scared to fall for him, although, thinking about it, I think I already did.

  
  


I let out a sigh, knowing that I can't ignore this.

  
  


I shift on my bed and jump a little as the door opens.

  
  


Looking up, I see Chester standing in the doorway.

  
  


"Hey," he nods.

  
  


"Hey."

  
  


A few moments of silence pass between us until Chester finally speaks, his soft, warm voice a welcome intrusion on the silence.

  
  


"Can we talk?" he asks wearily, almost as if he thinks my answer is going to be in the negative.

  
  


"Sure," I nod, moving my legs, motioning for him to sit down.

  
  


He lets the door shut and walks over to me, smiling gently as he sits at the end of my bed, crossing his legs.

  
  


"About yesterday," he starts, looking directly at me, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it."

  
  


"No, it's--- Chester I feel the same," I blurt out.

  
  


He stares at me for a few seconds, his mouth forming into an 'o' shape, "Oh."

  
  


"Yeah."

  
  


"Why'd you go then?"

  
  


"Chester," I sigh, sitting up, "We can't do this. We can't, y'know, be together," I tell him, although my mind is screaming otherwise.

  
  


His faces frowns, "Why not?"

  
  


"Because, Chester, I can't---"

  
  


"Can't or won't?"

  
  


I look down to my hands, fiddling with my fingers, "Both," I mutter, not looking up as the answer leaves my mouth.

  
  


"Won't?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head.

  
  


"Why not?"

  
  


I let out a sigh and look back up to him, "I'm sorry," I whisper, seeing the hurt upon his face, "There's plenty of reasons."

  
  


"Tell me."

  
  


"Okay."

  
  


Silence.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


"Ches-- I'm not good enough for you," I sigh, "Why on earth would you want me, hey? You're so beautiful, you could have any guy you wanted, just like that----"

  
  


"And what if I don't want any other guy?"

  
  


"Chester, I'm no good for you."

  
  


"What?" he spits, grabbing my hand, "What makes you think that?"

  
  


"I'm a junkie, remember? A fuck up."

  
  


"Was-- you  _were_  a junkie," he stops, "And you're not a fuck up."

  
  


"I am Ches---"

  
  


"How?"

  
  


"I've done things, so many bad things, I'm just not a nice person."

  
  


"How? What makes you 'not a nice person'?"

  
  


"You really need me to tell you? Look at all the shit I've put people through. My best friend died because of me---"

  
  


"We've been through this, Mike. That wasn't your fault----"

  
  


"You don't want me, okay. You need someone who isn't messed up in the head,

someone who had a nice upbringing, someone who's got a good life ahead of them. Not someone like me, not some dirty scum---"

  
  


"Stop it," he hisses, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him, "Stop saying those things."

  
  


I stare back at him in shock, never having seen the angry side to him before. His eyes glare back at me, "Why do you do this to yourself, hey?"

  
  


"What?" I ask.

  
  


"Think so little of yourself. Why do you think you're dirty, scum?"

  
  


"I am."

  
  


"Why?"

  
  


I gulp, "What other word would you use to call a rent boy?" I spit, watching as confusion clouds over his expression.

  
  


"Mike, what happened with Crystal doesn't make you dirty---"

  
  


"It wasn't just her," I continue, "I let this guy fuck me in return for drugs too," I spit, "He used to fuck me in some old, abandoned toilets, slam me against the cold and dirty floor until I couldn't breathe---"

  
  


Chester loosens his grip on my chin, his angered look turning into one of sadness, but not one of disgust, "When?"

  
  


"After Brad died," I tell him, "I met him in some bar. His name was Jake---"

  
  


"The guy you had nightmares about?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head, "If sleeping with some stranger to feed your habit doesn't make you scum, what does?"

  
  


"Mike, you're not scum---"

  
  


"Yes I am. I'm disgusting, you deserve so much better than---"

  
  


"Ssh," his voice soothes, his legs unfolding as he scoots closer to me.

  
  


I feel a sense of comfort run through me as he slips his arms around my waist, "Why do you hate yourself so much, hey?" he whispers, "I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought we were getting you back."

  
  


"I'm ashamed of myself," I whisper, a sob escaping me.

  
  


"Mike, listen to me, okay?"

  
  


I slowly nod my head, wiping my tears away.

  
  


"You're not a bad person, okay?"

  
  


I stare back at him, slowly nodding.

  
  


"I mean it Mike. You're not. Promise me you'll stop thinking that?" He pulls me against him and I feel safe, I know deep down, that he's right.... It's just hard.

  
  


"What's the real reason, hey? Or are you just going to throw another bunch of excuses at me, hey? We could be here all frickin year though, because it's going to take a hell of a lot to make me change the way I feel about you."

  
  


I stare back at him as the words leave his mouth.

  
  


He can see right through me, can't he?

  
  


"I don't want to lose you," I sigh.

  
  


"Hey?" he frowns, his fingers gently trailing over my hand.

  
  


"What if we fall out, what if we---"

  
  


"We won't."

  
  


"I know," I pause, "I just---- Okay, I'm just scared," I admit.

  
  


"Scared?"

  
  


I let out a sigh and slowly pull away from his warm arms, "I'm scared of getting too close to you, scared of falling in love with you, scared of hurting you, scared of a lot of things but the answer's no."

  
  


He stares back at me for a few seconds, as if he's trying to catch up with the words that I just blurted out at him, "No?" he frowns.

  
  


"No," I whisper, "No it wouldn't be wrong to kiss you."

  
  


I watch as a smile spreads across his face, his eyes sparkling back at me as I lean closer, almost tasting him as he lets out a shaky sigh.

  
  


Our eyes close as soon as our lips meet, his soft hands sliding to the back of my head, pulling me closer still.

  
  


I feel myself smiling as he slowly pulls away, his hands still holding my head as he looks me dead in the eye, a smile to match mine.

  
  


"I'm scared Ches," I tell him, my gaze flicking between his eyes, "But I want this so much," I whisper, "I want to be with you."

  
  


His face seems to split in two as he smile gets bigger, "Me too," he tells me, "Me too."

  
  


We stare at one another for a few more moments, our eyes glistening, shining with happiness. Chester slowly tilts his head and in a matter of seconds his soft lips are slowly pressing against mine, delicately kissing me.

  
  


He pulls me into his arms, and that's when I know, I can't go on denying this anymore, making up excuses. This is right, so right. This is where I am safe, happy, this is where I belong.

  
  


With him.


	19. Chapter 19

_> > Four years later <<_

  
  
  


I look up in the mirror, brushing a hand through my thick, black spikes of hair and let out a sigh, shaking my head as a smile plays upon my lips. I finally break out into a grin and tug at one of the silver hoops in my ears.

  
  


I frown slightly, wincing inside as my eyes meet with the silvery white scars on the inside of my arm but as I pull my sleeve down, my smile starts to breaks out once more.

  
  


There's a tap at the door and I glance up to see Chester slowly stepping in and making his way over to me. I look back into the mirror, catching his eyes as he stops behind me, sliding his slim arms around my waist; my head immediately resting back against his shoulder; his chin on mine.

  
  


"Happy birthday," he whispers softly, his fingertips delicately dancing on my stomach, brown eyes sparkling back at me, causing my infamous grin to break out once again.

  
  


We stand there in silence for a good few minutes, almost as if we are having a conversation in our heads, only no words are exchanged.

  
  


"Who would have thought it, hey?" I finally break the silence, "Who would have thought I'd live to see my twenty-third birthday?"

  
  


Chester's smile fades for a second and he spins me around to face him, pulling me into a tight embrace.

  
  


"Well you did," he whispers, pulling away to place a tiny kiss on my forehead, "And I'm so proud of you," he smiles, his hands sliding up my sides, finally resting on my shoulders.

  
  


"I couldn't have done it without you," I smile, my hands lacing around his waist, pulling him closer still.

  
  


His hands slowly travel up the back of my neck, resting on my head where he pulls me toward him, our lips meeting in a matter of seconds, eyes snapping shut as we kiss one another softly.

  
  


We pull away from one another, our moment broken as the sound of Joe cursing in the lounge rings through our ears.

  
  


"Who the  _fuck_  put that box there?"

  
  


Chester slides his arms from around my shoulders and steps over to the door, poking his head out to see what all the commotion is about.

  
  


I sigh and turn back to the mirror, staring at the reflection of the now empty room. The walls are bare, everything neatly boxed up, for today we finally move out of this place. It seems strangely eerie, like it's the end of an era, the end of many bad memories for the five of us.

  
  


I close my eyes, scenes of the past five or so years playing out in my head. I remember when we first moved in here, how we all swore we'd save a little money each month to go toward decorating. The walls and carpets still remain in the same distasteful fashion, five years later. I remember when Chester moved in, how seriously ill I was back then. The shouting, the arguments, the tears that this place has seen. If these walls could talk, they'd have so much to say.

  
  


So much has happened here, that's why I can't believe that we're moving out, that things have finally moved on.

  
  


I'm no longer the scared guy that I used to be, no longer the guy who worries over everything, no longer the junkie, the alcoholic.

  
  


I've finally left him behind.

  
  


Even though on days, I still hurt, I still cry, I still get down, I've learnt to talk about things, to open up and trust people, but most of all I've learnt to move on.

  
  


I'm no longer stuck in the past, going over my childhood, my worst fears in my head.

  
  


I know the pain's never going to go, the wounds are never going to fully heal, but I have hope now, a hope that not long ago seemed to be so hard to find.

  
  


I sigh and open my eyes, Chester behind me once again.

  
  


And when I do get down, he's the one who I know will always be here for me. He's my rock, my greatest companion, and to him I am eternally grateful.

  
  


He saved me, pulled me from the darkness I was drowning in and helped me turn my life around.

  
  


He got me talking again. He helped me share my problems with him, and the awful memories that we both had endured brought us together, helped us to help one another.

  
  


I love the time that I spend with him, we talk, we laugh, we cry together; it's almost like we're at one when we're with each other.

  
  


"What are you thinking?"

  
  


His soft voice breaks through my thoughts and I smile back at him in the glass, leaning back against him, as I speak.

  
  


"I was thinking how lucky I am," I grin.

  
  


He blinks back at me through his glasses, "What do you mean?"

  
  


"How lucky I am that I have you," I smile.

  
  


His face breaks out into a grin, "Funny that," he smiles, "I was just thinking how lucky I was to have you."

  
  


I let out a giggle and poke him in the side, "You're cheesy Chester," I joke.

  
  


He smiles and pulls away from me slightly, digging his hand into the back pocket of his trousers.

  
  


"Close your eyes," he whispers, moving closer once again.

  
  


"Why? What are you up to?" I ask suspiciously.

  
  


"Close them," he grins.

  
  


"Okay," I smile, shutting my eyes.

  
  


I feel him behind me, moving closer still, then something cold upon my neck. A few seconds later, he slips his arms around my waist, "Okay, you can open them again," he tells me.

  
  


I slowly open my eyes, looking back at the reflection in the mirror, Chester's arms wrapped around me, watching me as I study my....

  
  


"Chester!" I exclaim, "How did you? Where the---"

  
  


My face breaks out into a smile as I spot the silver chain around my neck, the one that I'd taken to the pawn-brokers all that time ago.

  
  


"How did you get it back?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly as I reach my hand up to it, tugging it gently.

  
  


"You're pleased with it then?" he asks, ignoring my question.

  
  


"Pleased?" I spin around, "Chester, I, I don't know what to say," I smile, "Thank you so much," I tell him, throwing my arms around him, "Thank you," I whisper, closing my eyes as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close to him.

  
  


I pull away slightly, pressing my lips to his, "I love you," I tell him, smiling back at him.

  
  


"I love you too," he grins, pulling me in for another kiss.

  
  


"Are you two---- Oh sorry."

  
  


We look up to see Joe stood in the doorway, "You two ready to get going? Dave's just arrived with the van."

  
  


"Sure are," I nod as Chester pulls away from me.

  
  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  
  


"Is that everything?" Dave asks, loading the last of the boxes into the van.

  
  


"Yeah," Chester nods as I slowly make my way back up the steps and into the house.

  
  


I glance around, shivering as my eyes meet with the empty lounge and kitchen. There are rectangle shapes of dust on the carpet where the couches once lay, and a small bright yellow circle where the clock in the kitchen once hung.

  
  


I close my eyes, quickly opening them again, the place looks just the way it did when we first moved in, an eerie emptiness to it. I feel tears welling up in my eyes as I remember out first day here, Rob, Brad and I, sat in the middle of the carpet eating noodles with plastic cutlery, our few bags laid beside us; the only possessions we had.

  
  


How things have changed.

  
  


Remember our band?

  
  


We finally got a publishing deal, closely followed by a record deal.

  
  


Today the five of us move into a proper house together. One with floors that don't creak and doors that shut properly.

  
  


We're touring at the moment, yes, touring. Just playing clubs and bars, supporting a few rock bands on their tours. We're even set to play Ozzfest this year, can you believe it? Then we'll be releasing our debut album in the autumn. Chester always said we were going to be rock stars, and as much as I hate that label, It looks like he was right.

  
  


How things have changed.

  
  


"Mike?"

  
  


I spin around to see Joe, "Ready?" he asks, glancing around the room himself.

  
  


"Yeah," I nod, walking over to the door with him, "I'm ready."

  
  


He smiles, patting me gently on the back as I step outside, smiling at Chester and Dave who are trying to lock the van door.

  
  


Joe locks the door and we make our way down the steps, getting into the van, Chester jumping in on my knee, kissing me excitedly. Dave gets in the other side of Joe and shuts the door, starting the engine up.

  
  


I glance out of the window as we pull away and smile, the tall grey building fading into the distance.

  
  


The end of an era, huh?

  
  
  
  


\-------

  
  
  
  


"Are you ready for one more?" My voice echoes across the crowd and I look back at Chester, "Are they ready?" I grin.

  
  


He smiles back at me, draping his arm around my shoulder as I speak into my mic once again.

  
  


"This one's for a very good friend of ours," I smile, "He's sadly no longer with us. He was the best guitar player in the world though," I grin as Dave lets out a chuckle, "Anyway, this is called crawling," I stop as the crowd lets out a cheer, "I wanna hear y'all singing along with Chester, okay?"

  
  


The crowd cheers yet again and the songs starts up, my fingers deftly strumming out the tune on my guitar.

  
  


Chester's voice softly flows across the audience.

  
  


"Crawling in my skin, these wounds they will not heal---"

  
  


I smile back at Rob as the crowd sings along, their voices sending shivers down my spine as I look across to Joe, then finally out across the sea of people.

  
  


Their hands wave from side to side, voices singing along with Chester as he belts out the song he wrote for me.

  
  


The song that seemed to, somehow, bring us even closer together.

  
  


I look back over the crowd.

  
  


This is my life, this is what I live for.

  
  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  
  


"Happy Birthday Shinizzle."

  
  


I grin and blow out the candles on my cake.

  
  


"What did you wish for?" Joe asks me excitedly.

  
  


I glance across at Chester, a smirk upon my face, "If I say, then it won't come true," I grin, winking at him.

  
  


He smiles back and passes me the silver knife. I take it and begin cutting the chocolate cake, handing out everyone a slice.

  
  


I bite into the cake and swallow the mouthful, grinning back at Chester, "My favourite," I smile, shouting over the loud music.

  
  


He lets out a small chuckle and sets his plate down.

  
  


"What?" I frown as his eyes stare back at me.

  
  


He leans forward, fingers gently brushing against my cheek, "Chocolate," he smiles, tracing his fingers along my lips.

  
  


I smile deviously and flick my tongue out, gently licking at his warm finger.

  
  


My plate is set down and Chester pulls me against him, his finger replaced by his lips, arms winding their way around my waist.

  
  


We slowly pull away, glancing around the hotel room at the others who are drinking and dancing amongst themselves.

  
  


"Come on," he whispers, tugging at my hand, "Let's get out of here for a while."

  
  
  
  


\---------

  
  
  
  


Chester's warm body presses up against me, pale fingers dancing up and down my chest, soft lips fused with mine as we kiss hungrily, our moans filling the quiet hotel room.

  
  


He pulls away from me, his lips trailing down my neck, warm hands slowly

following the wet trails as they glide down my body. His smooth fingers teasing and pinching at my skin.

  
  


"You're beautiful, you know that?" he whispers.

  
  


His voice rings through my ears, lust filled eyes staring up at me as he stops his ministrations, his lithe body slowly crawling up mine, until his lips are upon my own once again.

  
  


He slowly pulls away, a smile playing upon his lips as he rests on his elbows, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across my cheeks.

  
  


"What do you want me to do?"

  
  


I smile back at him, my hand moving up to his wrist. I grab his hand, his fingers stopping their movements as I place a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

  
  


"You didn't answer me."

  
  


I stare back at him, "I think you know," I whisper, my breathing slightly ragged as Chester begins to grind his hips into mine, settling into a steady pace as his hands begin to roam over my body once again.

  
  


"I know," he whispers, his hot breath upon my lips, "I just want to hear you say it."

  
  


I shiver as his warm tongue slowly trails across my bottom lip, before his mouth closes over mine, kissing me passionately.

  
  


"Well?" he murmurs, his soft hands now pressing against my chest as he pulls away.

  
  


"I want to feel you inside me."

  
  


His lips slowly turn into a smile and he presses his body further against mine, his hot skin melting against me, hands trailing down my sides.

  
  


I watch him as I reaches under the soft, white pillow, retrieving a small bottle of lube which he places aside as his lips press against mine once again.

  
  


I let out a low moan as his velvety tongue skillfully parts my lips, sliding in between them, massaging my own tongue.

  
  


"Chester," I murmur as he continues to grind his hips into mine, his strong arms pinning me down against the mattress, "Please----"

  
  


He pulls away, arms releasing me as he grabs the bottle, gently rolling me onto my side.

  
  


I feel him position himself behind me, his hot breath against my neck as he unscrews the cap.

  
  


"Relax baby," he whispers, his voice gentle and caring as he trails his hand down my spine, resting it on my lower back.

  
  


I shiver as I feel one of his cool fingers gently sliding inside of me, shortly followed by another one, gently fingering me, brushing my spot lightly as they push further inside.

  
  


"Ches---"

  
  


His fingers are gently removed, his hands upon my hips, sound of his breath panting in my ears.

  
  


"Ready?" he whispers.

  
  


I nod my head as he shifts my legs a little, his hands tightening their grip on my hips.

  
  


I take a sharp breath as he slowly eases himself inside me, my fingers clawing at the bed covers as a sharp pain rips through me.

  
  


He stays still for a while, his hand sliding around my waist, gently running up and down my stomach, his lips upon my neck, sucking and nibbling at the tender skin.

  
  


I slowly open my eyes and let out a shaky breath, "Please Chester."

  
  


He needs no more prompting and slowly moves out of me, slamming back inside.

  
  


"Fuck," he moans, his hot breath upon my neck, "Baby--- kiss me---"

  
  


I turn my head slightly, my lips immediately crashing against his as his hands begin to run up and down my body in time with his thrusts.

  
  


"Fuck---" I let out a moan as Chester hits something deep inside of me, sending waves of pleasure throughout my body, "There--- Ches---" I'm incapable of making coherent sentences as he continues to plummet himself inside of me, our kiss finally breaking as the need for air becomes apparent.

  
  


My eyes snap shut and I lean back against Chester's warm body. My breaths are ragged as I feel his hand slip around mine, gently lowering it to my erection. He slides both our hands around it, gently pumping them up and down, moving in time with his thrusts.

  
  


"OH fuck."

  
  


Chester's voice rings through my mind.

  
  


"Baby, open your eyes."

  
  


I do as I am told, my eyes slowly fluttering open.

  
  


"Look ahead."

  
  


I look up, almost cumming all over myself as my eyes settle on the full length

mirror that hangs from the hotel wall.

  
  


The sight is mind blowing. Chester's paler body behind mine, causing our sweat covered bodies to merge into one. His hand is still wrapped around mine, moving up and down my erection in a steady rhythm.

  
  


"Fuck---" I utter, feeling myself getting closer and closer to the edge.

  
  


"Baby, I, I can't hold on much longer---"

  
  


Chester's voice is hoarse and his eyes lock with mine in the erotic reflection as he

slams himself into me once again. Sweat runs down my chest, his fingers clawing into the hot skin.

  
  


"Cum with me," he murmurs against my ear, his thrusts harder, his hand moving faster and faster.

  
  


I cry out as pleasure waves throughout me. It flows down my spine, to the tips of my toes as Chester cums inside me, his warm liquid flowing deep into me as I find my release too, my seed spilling into our hands.

  
  


We lay like that, our breathing slowly steadying down to a normal pace, eyes still locked as we stare into the mirror.

  
  


Chester finally slides himself out of me and I roll over, snuggling up against him, "I love you," I whisper.

  
  


"Love you too."

  
  


He smiles back at me, pressing his soft lips against mine, holding me close.

  
  


"We should get back to your party."

  
  


"Mhm," I murmur.

  
  
  
  


\--------

  
  
  
  


"Hey, are you okay?"

  
  


Chester's soft arms slide around my waist and I lean back against his slender body, watching the world as it passes by beneath us.

  
  


A cool spring breeze flutters by as we stand on the hotel balcony together, the moon providing the only light.

  
  


"Thanks for today Chester," I smile, finally turning to face him, our eyes meeting.

  
  


"I'm glad you had a good day," he whispers, kissing me gently on the forehead.

  
  


I lean against him, reveling in his comforting touch as his fingers lightly stroke the back of my neck.

  
  


"Come on," he whispers in my ear, "Let's get some sleep."

  
  


I slowly nod and allow him to lead me over to the bed, sinking against the soft mattress as he gently pushes me down. He climbs in next to me, lacing his arm around me as I curl up, resting my head against his pale chest.

  
  


"Night baby," he whispers.

  
  


"Night," I smile as he turns off the small bedside lamp.

  
  


I watch him as he slowly drifts off to sleep, my fingers lazily dancing across his milky chest. The moonlight filters through the open window, making him look almost angelic as it shines upon him.

  
  


I smile, whispering to him gently as I drift off to sleep, my head resting back against his chest, the murmur of his heart in my ears.

  
  
  


_I think an angel left you both his wings_

_To keep me safe from falling change_

_Maybe you ditched the halo_

_But you've still got my back._


End file.
